


To the Victor Go the Spoils

by Vlara



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Hawke Being an Asshole, Hurt/Comfort, Lingerie, M/M, Magister Hawke, Master/Slave, Oral Sex, Piercings, Praise Kink, Punishment, Slave Fenris, gradual feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 07:00:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13782237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vlara/pseuds/Vlara
Summary: “I don’t plan to kill your precious investment, Danarius,” Hawke sneered, mirth and spite lacing into his words. “You worked so hard to turn this pretty slave into a living weapon because you are too weak to protect yourself. I, on the other hand, am powerful enough on my own.” The hand that had been clutching Fenris’s waist slid down to knead his ass, its outline much more visible with only the tight leggings hiding it from view. Shocked, Fenris had to put his hands against Hawke’s broad chest to keep from falling over. “I am going to take your bodyguard and best protection, Danarius, and I am going to turn him into a body slave. So at night, when you sit in fear of your enemies, remember that your years of research and experimentation and all the money you spent to try and stay safe is now being used to satisfy my lust."Moved from the kinkmeme. On hiatus.





	1. Chapter 1

He hadn’t done it for the reward really. Hawke had enough wealth of his own to cater to his every need, but his arrogance, his need to prove that no other Magister in all of Tevinter could best him in any challenge had lead Hawke to accept Danarius’s request for a duel. The older Magister, nearly as self-assured, lusted after the library of rare and powerful tomes Hawke kept under lock and key deep in the bowels of his sprawling estate. There was one book in particular on ancient blood magic rites that had Danarius nearly salivating at the thought of, and he knew there was only one way to get it. The terms were laid out in a formal letter, as was the custom. The duel would be held in the presence of the Archon, the prize being the losing opponent’s most valuable possession. Hawke hadn’t even bothered to inquire about what Danarius’s was before accepting; the thought of destroying the old man had been enough for him.   
  
The duel had been as quick and humiliating as Hawke promised it would be before they began. Danarius had no choice but to yield as powerful magic that bent space and time prevented him from doing much more than begging for his life. Hawke grinned cockily over the fallen man, sneering at his weakness. “Pathetic,” he said, turning toward their audience to resist the urge to kick the gasping mage in the stomach while he was down. “Archon, I believe I am entitled to the prize this garbage has so foolishly gambled.” The Archon nodded gravely. Thoughts of exotic, enchanted amulets and powerful staffs crossed Hawke’s mind, perhaps something exquisite he could display to remind all those who called upon his home of his status and wealth.  
  
“Danarius,” the Archon’s voice was raspy and withered with age. “You have been defeated and as such must now forfeit the possession in your estate which holds the most value.”  
  
The man did not stand, did not move, just sat on the ground where he had been felled with his head hanging low. “What’s this?” Hawke demanded impatiently, “Are you pouting like a child, Danarius? Bet something you weren’t willing to lose?” He laughed deep and low. “You truly thought you could beat me, didn’t you? You’re more of an idiot than I took you for. Keep at least some of the shreds of dignity you have left and hand over my prize.”  
  
Danarius’s arm lifted slowly, and he waved his hand in a beckoning motion. Out of the crowd came the strangest elf Hawke had ever seen. His hair was pure white and a litany of intricately designed scars covered every inch of skin from his chin down that was not shielded from view by intimidating spiked armor. A great sword was on his back that looked too large for him to lift, but he carried it with the ease of a man well practiced in its use. Hawke narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Fenris,” Danarius said slowly, “this is your new master.”  
  
“A slave?” Hawke shouted in annoyed disbelief. “You expect me to believe that this elf is worth more than anything else you own?”  
  
Danarius looked up, suddenly hopeful, and scrambled to his feet. “Is there something else you want? You are welcome to anything if you’d rather not have him.”  
  
“Danarius,” the Archon called from his dais on the sidelines, “the terms you laid out for this duel promised that which is most valuable, and this slave is worth far more than anything else you have to offer. Magister Hawke, I witnessed the experiments that created the markings on that slave. Show him.” Fenris obediently held out his arm and turned it, so Hawke could better see the lines that scored his dark skin. “They are lyrium. He is worth thousands of sovereigns even if you skin him and take the lyrium out. He has served Danarius as a peerless bodyguard for years. He has the ability to reach into the chests of your foes and rip out their hearts. Isn’t that right? Speak, slave.”  
  
“Yes, Archon,” the elf said immediately. Hawke had become somewhat distracted as the Archon spoke. This slave was quite attractive now that he took the time to look at him closely. He glanced over at Danarius who seemed stricken at the loss of his precious bodyguard. An idea formed in his head that made him feel nearly giddy, a way to further humiliate his already defeated foe. Hawke turned to the elf, putting his finger under his lyrium-lined chin to force the slave to look at him. He was met with big green eyes; they were full of equal parts anxiety and fear, though underlying both emotions was something that made Hawke’s plan even more exciting: submission. This slave had already accepted that he had a new master, was already willing to obey unquestioningly. Those big, green eyes looked down and to the side, unable to maintain eye contact with the fearsome mage who now owned him.  
  
“I have no need for a bodyguard,” Hawke said, smirking at the look of hope in Danarius’s eyes. The elf’s shoulders slumped slightly. “Fenris,” his voice boomed like a drum.  
  
Startled, the elf looked up at him, “Yes, Master?”   
  
“Return your sword to your former owner.” Fenris unsheathed it with ease and laid it carefully at Danarius’s feet, knowing that the mage could not lift its great weight. “And your armor.” Fenris’s hands shook now as he removed his spiked pauldrons, his thick breast plate, his razor-edged gauntlets and laid them next to the sword. He stood, feeling exposed and unnerved in his tunic and leggings. He knew what was coming next; the Archon had suggested it himself.   
  
Danarius was growing more and more furious, his face turning red with anger. He too had an idea of what Hawke had planned. “You cannot kill him! I spent years perfecting the infusion of lyrium into a living being! He is the only specimen that survived! You are wasting all of that just to gain more lyrium? You can’t!”  
  
The Archon cleared his throat, immediately cowing the raging Magister as he remembered his place. “The slave is no longer yours, Danarius. You would be wise not to try to dictate what will be done with things that are not your property.”  
  
Fenris was visibly trembling now. Life was hard, and he wished for something better, for some purpose other than that of a weapon, but he did not want to die. “Fenris, come over here,” Hawke said sternly, flatly ignoring Danarius’s outburst. Fenris moved slowly, in a haze. He was unarmed, unprotected, and walking toward his death. He wanted to run, but could not find the will to disobey his master. As soon as he was close enough, Hawke’s arm shot out and grabbed him around the waist, forcing him off balance. He fell into the man, and Hawke’s strong grip kept him pressed almost obscenely against his side.   
  
“I don’t plan to kill your precious investment, Danarius,” he sneered, mirth and spite lacing into his words. “You worked so hard to turn this pretty slave into a living weapon because you are too weak to protect yourself. I, on the other hand, am powerful enough on my own.” The hand that had been clutching Fenris’s waist slid down to knead his ass, its outline much more visible with only the tight leggings hiding it from view. Shocked, Fenris had to put his hands against Hawke’s broad chest to keep from falling over. “I am going to take your bodyguard and best protection, Danarius, and I am going to turn him into a body slave. So at night, when you sit in fear of your enemies, remember that your years of research and experimentation and all the money you spent to try and stay safe is now being used to satisfy my lust. I’m sure the lyrium in these fingers,” he grabbed the dumbfounded and wide-eyed elf’s hand and licked one of his fingertips, “will feel fantastic wrapped around my cock.” Without so much as another word, he abruptly released Fenris, turned, and walked away, his lips curling into a sinister smile as the elf trailed obediently behind.


	2. Chapter 2

The Hawke estate was much grander than Fenris had imagined. He was used to the opulence of Danarius’s mansion, but here on the outskirts of Minrathous, where there was more land available, Hawke had commissioned an entire complex of buildings, all designed in what his former master would have called a barbarically Ferelden style. He did not know what could possibly be going on in all that space, and his new master did not deign to tell him. The Magister had not acknowledged his existence on their entire trip, something that made Fenris feel more nervous than it probably should have. He thought on Hawke’s earlier promise to make him a body slave, and his chest twisted with apprehension. Without the comforting weight of his armor and weapon, knowing of his new purpose, he felt more vulnerable than he had in his life. 

Trying to escape these thoughts, Fenris watched as they walked through the large doors of what was clearly the main building and Hawke’s home. There were plenty of slaves bustling to and fro, and each was careful to lower their heads as their master walked by, though some turned to stare at Fenris as he passed. He knew they wondered about him, strange as he was, and he knew just as well that they would learn his purpose soon enough. At least in Danarius’s household and the homes of other magisters he had seen while in the man’s possession, the body slaves were obvious in both dress and the way they carried themselves. Some were only ever seen in the private chambers of their masters, chained to a bed or the wall. As he stepped through the arched doors of Hawke’s suite, Fenris wondered idly if he’d be kept in the same way. He suddenly wished he had spent more time enjoying the sun on his face as they travelled. He realized as the doors shut firmly behind him that he may never have that chance again.

Hawke’s sleeping chamber was enormous. A large bed with a thick red comforter and more pillows than one could possibly need occupied almost the entire left half of the room. In the middle stood a huge marble fireplace, a flame already burning brightly in its hearth. A bearskin rug lay in front of it flanked by two plush, red wingback chairs. The right half of the room seemed more utilitarian, an armoire, a dresser, a writing desk littered with papers, and a door that Fenris assumed led to a bathing room. He took all this in rather quickly, as he had been trained to do, finding possible points of entry and hiding places for assassins as a matter of instinct. There were two large glass doors on either side of the fireplace that led to a balcony. Fenris eyed them warily. How easy it would be for an enemy to scale the side of the building and burst through them. But, he reminded himself, that was no longer his concern.

Hawke walked close to the fireplace where the light was better. The sun had already begun to set, sending pale orange and red rays into the room. He stopped, turning toward Fenris. The elf immediately lowered his head. “So, I go all the way out to the center of Minrathous for a duel with that weasel, Danarius, and all I have to show for it is another slave.”

Fenris was unsure whether Hawke was addressing him or just announcing his general displeasure. He remained silent and still, though he could feel the gaze of the powerful mage drifting over him. “Well,” Hawke sighed, “I might as well see what my prize truly is. Take off your clothes, slave.”

Fenris’s heartbeat thundered in his ears. He knew he’d have to do this, knew there was no choice, but it was terrifying to expose his scarred body to his new master. He would certainly find him hideous and flay him alive despite his words at the duel. With shaky fingers, Fenris began to unlatch the toggles on his tunic. Suddenly, Hawke’s large hand grabbed his wrist firmly, the grip just short of being painful. Fenris looked up in fear. Had he done something wrong already? He did not doubt that his new, arrogant owner would be quick to dole out punishment. 

“There are rules for slaves in my household. I will give you a pass this one time because you didn’t know, but I do not tolerate disobedience. You are longer a silent, foreboding bodyguard, Fenris. You’re holes for me to fuck, a toy for me to play with. You exist solely for my pleasure.” Hawke released the elf’s wrist to stroke gently at his finely sculpted jawline. “You are a very pretty toy, and I like your voice. You will not try to hold back the moans of pleasure or the cries of pain you will surely feel the desire to voice, and whenever you are given a command, you will reply with Yes, Master before you comply. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master,” Fenris replied quickly, nodding his head, trying to slow his breathing as nervousness and something close to panic began to wash over him in waves.

“Learning already,” Hawke praised, stepping back to sit in one of the wingback chairs. “Now come over here and show me the body I have won.”

“Yes, Master,” Fenris repeated and moved to stand before the lounging mage. He finished removing his tunic and held it in his hands for a moment, concerned about where to put it. He looked up at Hawke who was beginning to grow impatient. “Master,” he said softly, his voice hitching in fear that he was making a mistake, “I do not want to displease you. Where should I put my clothes?”

Hawke grinned ferally at the elf. “What a good boy.” Fenris let out a breath of relief. “Just throw them off to the side,” he vaguely gestured toward the right side of the room. “You won’t be needing them anymore. I have some new items to replace them.”

“Yes, Master,” Fenris said, tossing his tunic as instructed, “Thank you, Master.”

Hawke’s grin widened as Fenris peeled off his skintight leggings and threw them aside too. The elf was scarred everywhere. There were spirals of lyrium on each of his hairless balls, and though it was limp, Hawke could see that the underside of Fenris’s dick was lined with lyrium as well. He was exotic, delicious, and the mage was suddenly much more pleased than he expected, especially when he noticed the rosy blush rising from the elf’s dusky nipples to his high cheekbones. A thought occurred to him, and he leaned forward in anticipation. “Get on your knees.”

“Yes, Master.” Fenris descended gracefully to his knees, hunching in on himself slightly and placing his hands in his lap, his head still lowered.

Hawke very nearly growled at him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Fenris looked up in shock, his eyes wide with fear. He opened his mouth to ask what he had done wrong, but closed it sharply as he thought better of it. “Do you not understand what you are? Did I not make it clear enough for you? Your body is not yours. It’s mine, and you will not hide what belongs to me from my sight. Lean back on your elbows with your hands beneath you. Let me see your cock and your face.”

Fenris hurried to comply. “Yes, Master. I’m sorry, Master.”

Hawke hummed in approval. The blush on the elf was deeper now. His finely angled face was no longer shadowed by his bone white hair, but he did not look into his owner’s eyes. “Tell me, slave. How much experience have you had? Did Danarius fuck your cute little asshole? Did you suck on the dicks of other slaves?”

“No, Master. As far as I know, I am a virgin,” he stumbled a bit over the words. “I have only ever touched myself.”

“Well,” Hawke said thoughtfully, stroking his beard, “I suppose it is better to start training from scratch anyway. Soon, you’ll be exactly the kind of slut I want you to be. Won’t that be nice? Aren’t you grateful that I am going to allow you to keep your expensive hide and use it to please your master?”

“Yes, Master,” Fenris replied shakily, both truly grateful and absolutely terrified. “Thank you, Master. I will try my best to please you.”

“No,” Hawke sneered, “you will please me, or you will be punished. And you wouldn’t want that, would you?”

“No, Master,” Fenris cried in desperation from his prone position. “Please show me what to do. Please, I want to be whatever it is you want.”

The grin returned to Hawke’s face, “Good boy,” he said. “Don’t worry, little wolf. I’ll turn you into a perfect little slut in no time at all.”


	3. Chapter 3

Hawke sat back in his chair, admiring the gorgeous elf splayed before him, the firelight dancing off of the exposed markings that covered his body. He could feel the fear coming off of his new toy in waves, and it was exhilarating. The fact that Fenris was untouched made him all the more attractive. Danarius had molded him into a perfect, stoic weapon, and Hawke was already undoing some of that training. He knew very well what the next step should be. The best body slaves were always the ones who wanted it. Turning a virgin into a wanton fucktoy was much easier than working on a slave that had been sexually abused before. Soon, Fenris would learn to love his new station. Hawke imagined the slender elf begging for his cock. His bone white hair would stick to his face with the sweat of riding his master. Hawke smiled broadly. “Crawl over here, slave. Come get used to your place between my legs.”

“Yes, Master,” Fenris said hurriedly as he scrambled over to the mage and settled himself before him.

Hawke looked thoughtful. “That wasn’t very sexy, though I can’t say it wasn’t eager.” He leaned down, so his face was a few inches from the elf’s. “You seem so afraid. That’s an ugly quality for both a bodyguard and a body slave.” He grabbed Fenris’s chin to force him to look into his cold hazel eyes. “Tell me what it is you fear. The penalty for lying will be severe.”

Fenris hesitated for only a moment, trembling under the powerful magister’s gaze. “Punishment,” he whispered.

“Punishment?” Hawke scoffed. “Punishment is part of being property. It’s what you deserve for disobeying. Besides, I can’t see a single whip scar or burn. You must not have had to endure punishment often, and it must have been easy. Tell me what it was that was so bad it has made you tremble like a child.”

Fenris looked stricken. He had been asked to reveal his greatest weakness, to give this ruthless mage absolute power over him. Danarius had loved it, had tortured him at every opportunity just to see him writhe in pain on the floor. Hadriana, his former master’s apprentice, also took absolute delight in making him suffer. This man, he knew, would be no different, but, as in all things, he had no choice. Fenris opened his mouth to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. The grip on his chin tightened.

“Tell me,” Hawke demanded.

“The markings.” His pulse pounded in his ears. He was setting himself up to be tortured, and there was nothing he could do about it. “He did something to my markings. I’m sorry, Master. I don’t understand magic, but he sent pain through them somehow. Please, Master, have mercy.”

Hawke looked thoughtful for a moment, loosening his grip to a gentle hold. With his thumb, he idly stroked the side of Fenris’s jaw. “How did it feel?”

“It was agony, Master. Only getting the markings in the first place was more painful. Please, Master, I beg you. Have mercy. Let me pleasure you. Please don’t punish me.”

Hawke sat back and considered Fenris’s words. This information was very useful and painfully obvious. The Magister felt foolish for not having considered the use of the lines of lyrium in his new toy to conduct spells. He allowed the hand that had been holding Fenris’s chin to drift to the markings in the center of it. “Remember, not to hold in your cries,” he instructed with a smirk.

Fenris’s breathing sped up as he tried to prepare his body for the hot, searing pain that would surely come. Hawke sent out a small pulse of magic, and the markings on the elf flared blue in reaction. He could not have held in the loud moan that tumbled from his lips if he had wanted to. The magic trekked down a familiar path, but it caressed and licked instead of burning. It felt incredible, something Fenris had never thought the markings capable of. His head fell back unconsciously as it traveled the length of his body, into his balls and cock, which hardened almost instantly in response. Hawke was smiling in satisfaction when the panting, overcome elf recovered enough from the unexpected onslaught of pleasure to look up at him. He carded his fingers through bone white hair to get a better look at the flushed, awed face that stared up at him. “That was a reward for being a good boy so far. What do you say?”

“Thank you, Master,” Fenris replied earnestly.

“You were glowing. I liked that. Does it happen often?” He returned to stroking the elf’s jawline.

“Yes, Master. My markings always glow when they come in contact with magic or when I phase.” Fenris leaned into the mage’s touch involuntarily. That pulse of magic had felt so good. He wanted more.

“Phase,” Hawke repeated. “Is that how you ripped out the hearts of your former owner’s enemies?”

“Yes, Master,” Fenris replied, letting out a small cry of pleasure as Hawke switched from stroking his jaw to tracing the outline of his long, pointed ear. His dick was still almost painfully hard, and his entire body felt much more sensitive than it ever had before.

“You won’t need that skill anymore,” Hawke said arrogantly. “There are no enemies who could get close enough to us to pose any kind of threat. Now, are you ready for your first lesson in becoming a slut?”

Fenris stared up at Hawke. It was hard to believe that his life had changed so dramatically and so quickly. That morning, he had awoken and traveled with Danarius to his duel with his eyes carefully sorting out all the dangers around them, his attention everywhere at once as it needed to be in order to serve his purpose as a living weapon. Now there was only Hawke and his pleasure, no room for worry or alertness, no need to kill or intimidate. This is better, he realized. “Yes, Master,” he said honestly.

Hawke removed his hand from the elf, who leaned slightly after it as it went, to open his robes fully, exposing his breeches and lightly furred chest. “Free my cock, slave. Use your teeth.”

“Yes, Master.” Fenris leaned into Hawke’s crotch and bit one of the ends of the ties holding his pants together. He pulled at it, and the laces came undone easily. He bent forward farther to pull at the crisscrosses there and loosen them. Hawke’s cock hardened as his watched his slave then return to his waist to bite at the flap of cloth still covering him and pull it downward, freeing the man’s dick as he had been told.

Hawke grabbed the back of the elf’s head and jerked him forward so his hard cock pressed against the dark skin of Fenris’s cheek. “This is your only concern now. You should think of nothing but this cock at all times.” Fenris rubbed his face against it, and Hawke moaned. “Good boy,” he said. “Now open your mouth and suck it.”

“Yes, Master.” Fenris leaned back to wet his lips and wrap them around the engorged tip of Hawke’s member. He sucked carefully, swiping his tongue around it as he sometimes did with his thumb on himself when he was allowed rare moments of privacy. Hawke returned to tracing the outline of the elf’s ears. Fenris moaned around the cock in his mouth, sending shivers up his master’s spine. After a few moments, he grabbed a handful of white hair and jerked his toy forward, filling up his mouth.

“Don’t just suck the tip, slut. Suck it all. Let it hit the back of that fuckhole of a throat. I don’t want to have to punish you.” This caused a small bit of panic in the elf who began bobbing his head furiously, allowing Hawke’s cock to slam into his throat and ignoring how it choked him and cut off his air every time it hit there. “Much better,” Hawke praised.

He grabbed another fistful of hair to pull Fenris off of his dick and immediately pressed the elf’s face into his balls. “Use your hands to stroke me while you suckle on my nuts.” 

Fenris immediately complied, licking and sucking at Hawke’s sac as his hands moved to pump his shaft. He gently pulled one of the testicles into his mouth and sucked carefully. Spurred on by the groans of pleasure from his master, he switched sides and repeated the gesture. Saliva dripped off of his chin. Hawke pulled him back up without warning and pushed his cock back into Fenris’s compliant mouth. He gripped handfuls of white hair and fucked the elf’s mouth in earnest, causing him to choke and sputter. “Do not swallow it yet,” he warned just before he shot cum into the hot cavern.

He released the elf, allowing him to lean back slightly. “Show me,” Hawke demanded, and Fenris opened his mouth to expose the way Hawke’s cum sat pooled on his tongue. The mage hummed in approval. “Move it around. Let it coat your tongue, but don’t you dare spill a drop.” Fenris did as he was told, curling and turning his tongue, so his master’s semen covered every inch. “Get used to the taste, slut. That’s the taste of success. You managed to please me on your first try. I won’t have to punish you after all.” Fenris couldn’t reply with his mouth full of cum, so he tried to look grateful. 

“Swallow it all,” Hawke instructed. Fenris did so without hesitation. “Now,” the mage continued, “I think you deserve a little reward. Stand up and turn around.”

“Yes, Master,” Fenris replied as he stood on shaky legs and showed his back to his master. Hawke grabbed the globes of his ass appreciatively then pulled him down into his lap. This startled Fenris, but the elf was careful not to struggle. Hawke’s thick fingers roamed over Fenris’s finely chiseled abs and chest. He tweaked those dusky nipples he had been admiring and grinned when the elf cried out.

“You may cum, today, slave. I will not always allow it, since this is my body and not yours, but I want to see you spew from your cute glowing prick.”

“Yes, Master,” Fenris moaned, “Thank you, Master.” The pleasure came harder than before, tearing its way through his markings. He moaned and writhed in his master’s lap, barely noticing the words of praise being whispered in his long, pointed ear. The pleasure was too much, and he came almost violently.

Limp and exhausted, he slumped back against the hard body behind him. “Thank you, Master,” he whispered again.

He could feel the mage smirking into his hair. “This is only the beginning.” It was a promise and a warning. “Now, sleep.” 

Fenris felt magic push him into blackness before he could reply.


	4. Chapter 4

Fenris never woke up slowly. Years of conditioning brought him from sleep to wakefulness in an instant, ready to fend off some assailant or be at his master’s side as soon as his name was called. He also never slept naked. Except for when he was allowed to bathe every few days, he was always in his armor, always within arm’s reach of his sword. As such, his first morning in the Hawke household began with panic. He was stretched along the luxurious bearskin rug in front of a still burning fire. The soft fur tickled along his entire bare back, something he had never felt before. He sat up with a start, phasing immediately to fight whoever it was that was likely attacking his master. The blue light he emanated faded quickly though as he spied his master sprawled across the huge bed across the room, buried in the red pillows and thick crimson comforter. He was snoring lightly. It wasn’t Danarius but Magister Hawke, his new master. 

Fenris sat crosslegged on the rug, staring at the mage with his head cocked to keep his white hair from obscuring his view. Hawke was the first person to ever touch him that didn’t cause him pain or die by his hand. He had praised the elf as well, called him a good boy, rewarded him by using his markings in a way Fenris had never imagined. His lyrium-lined cock grew half hard at the memory, and he bit his lip to quell his desire. This body is not mine he reminded himself, trying to resist the urge to wrap his fingers around his member. He knew Hawke wanted total control over him. If his master awoke to find him masturbating, it would almost certainly end in punishment. His cock wilted at the thought of displeasing the powerful mage and the agony he would feel as a result. He thought for a moment on what he could do that would please his master most and, in the end, decided to follow his regular morning routine.

Hawke awoke some time later, pushing the cloudy haze of sleep out of his eyes with the back of his hand. He turned over to see his gorgeous new fucktoy doing pushups with his taught ass facing the mage as he lifted himself up and down in perfect form. Hawke smiled to himself. His prize was so much better than he had originally realized. Taking Fenris as a body slave was one of the best ideas he had ever had. The elf was incredibly obedient. It would take such little training to mold him into exactly what Hawke wanted, and the more the mage stared at him, the more attractive he seemed, the cords of lyrium under his skin only adding to his exotic beauty. “Slave,” he called, startling Fenris into almost falling. “Come over here.”

“Yes, master,” the elf replied hurrying to stand and stride to Hawke’s bedside. He stood with his hands behind his back awaiting further orders.

Hawke pushed his covers and pillows around to make a space. He propped himself up on one elbow and laid a satin pillow just next to his face. “Lie down here,” he instructed, patting the bed, “on your back.”

Fenris’s mouth opened slightly in disbelief. He looked at the bed then back at his master who raised his eyebrows in slight annoyance at the wait. “Yes, Master,” the elf whispered as he climbed into the bed and laid like he had been told. His eyes closed for a moment as he enjoyed the feel of the soft cushion beneath him. A small grin formed on his face as he opened his eyes to gaze in grateful admiration at his master.

Hawke grinned back despite himself. His new toy could be adorable. “What has pleased you so much?” he asked.

“I have never lain in a bed before,” Fenris replied, and he seemed to settle further into the thick mattress.

“That’s understandable. No one takes their sword to bed. But you are not a weapon now, are you?” he asked, tracing the thick cord of lyrium that ran from Fenris’s throat to his navel. His skin was slightly wet with the sweat of his earlier exertions.

“No, Master,” he replied, shivering under the touch.

“What are you now?” Hawke began to trace the line back up.

“Your toy, Master.” Fenris leaned his head back to better expose his throat.

“My little slut,” the mage corrected.

“Your little slut,” Fenris amended. His cock began to harden as his master continued to trace his markings, moving on the curled vines on his collarbones.

Hawke hummed in approval at the elf’s words and the way he squirmed beneath his ministrations. “Tell me what you did this morning before I awoke. Do not leave anything out.”

Fenris stared up at him, meeting his eyes, “I woke up frightened, but then I remembered the events of yesterday and grew aroused instead.” Hawke’s eyes narrowed slightly, and his gentle touch stopped. “I did not touch myself, Master,” Fenris added hurriedly. “I swear. I knew that would displease you.”

“Smart boy,” Hawke praised; then his voice lowered in warning, “but if I find you lied to me.”

“Never!” Fenris exclaimed. “I would not lie to you, Master.”

“A wise decision. Continue,” Hawke commanded as he used his whole hand to knead at Fenris’s thighs, enjoying the way it made the elf’s cock jump in excitement.

“I wanted to please you, Master,” Fenris’s breath hitched as Hawke’s touch moved to his inner thigh just below his balls. “So I thought I would continue doing my morning exercises to keep this body in shape for you. I did two hundred squats, two hundred sit-ups, and one hundred forty-two pushups. I hope I didn’t displease you, Master. I will not do it again if you don’t want me to.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Hawke scoffed, “but that is actually a very good idea. I like these muscles.” He ran his hand over the elf’s chest and clearly defined abs. “You will continue to exercise daily.”

“Yes, Master,” Fenris promised.

“Now, are you ready to please me?”

“Yes, Master,” the elf repeated emphatically with an excited nod.

Hawke bent down and kissed him. Fenris gasped in surprise. “Never even been kissed? Don’t worry. You’ll learn quickly.” He then proceeded to plunder the elf’s mouth. Fenris moaned beneath him, bucking his hips in the air as he began to get the hang of kissing and twined his tongue with his master’s.

Hawke pulled away, leaving a thin thread of saliva between them. He grinned at the dazed look on his toy’s face. “I’m going to begin training your sluthole today, slave.” He reached over to the other side of the bed and grabbed a black box. He opened it for Fenris to see. “This is a cockring,” he said. “I don’t want you to cum again until my cock is deep inside you. This will help keep you from cumming, so I don’t have to punish you.”

“Thank you, Master,” Fenris replied earnestly as the ring was affixed to him. The last thing he wanted was to be punished because he couldn’t control his orgasms.

Hawke pointed to three conical shaped items of various sizes within the box. “These are buttplugs. You are going to wear them all day. We’ll start with the small one, a few hours later the medium one, and finally the big one.” He held up the two inch wide plug with a feral grin. “I have to stretch your sluthole out. If I tried to fuck you now, it would be too tight and hurt my cock. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

“No, Master,” Fenris replied with only a hint of fear in his voice. The plug was huge. He wasn’t sure how it could possibly fit inside him.

“Of course not. Now suck on my fingers. Get them as wet as you can”

Fenris sucked voraciously, enjoying the moans of his master. He twined his tongue between them, getting them as wet as possible. “Good boy,” Hawke praised. “Now lean forward with your ass in the air and your face on the bed. Use your hands to hold your cheeks open, so I can see your fuckhole better.”

“Yes, Master,” Fenris replied as he moved into the new position. He was glad his master could not see his face because it was flushed with embarrassment. He pulled open his cheeks with his hands and buried his face further into the bed. 

Hawke smacked his ass. “Wider,” he commanded. Fenris quickly complied, his heart racing. That was punishment, though it was small. He could not bear the agony of real punishment from this man. He used his fingers to pull himself as wide as he could. “Much better,” Hawke praised before he spit directly on the starburst of Fenris’s ass, causing him to shudder. Hawke pushed one finger in unceremoniously, and Fenris cried out. It did not hurt exactly, but it felt strange, uncomfortable. Hawke began pumping the finger, adding a second while at the same time sending a pulse of pleasure into the markings on Fenris’s balls. The elf moaned, and suddenly the fingers within him felt amazing. He began to rock back into Hawke’s thrusts. It felt so good. He was on the verge of cumming, but the cockring kept his orgasm at bay. He was grateful. He never could have controlled himself under this onslaught of pleasure.

Hawke pulled away, and Fenris whined despite himself. “What’s the matter, little slut? Is your fuckhole feeling empty?” He grabbed one of the elf’s wrists, throwing him off balance slightly, and licked and sucked on his fingers. Fenris moaned loudly and bucked into the air. “Since your hole is so greedy, fill it up with your own fingers.” He positioned the elf’s hand. Fenris looked back at him in surprise. “What are you waiting for?” roared Hawke as he began stroking his cock. “Let me see you fuck your ass!”

Fenris pushed his fingers in instantly, fucking himself the way Hawke had been. His arm was bent at an awkward angle, but he tried to ignore it and focus on the pleased groans his master was making. Hawke’s hand drifted to his calf and sent another jolt of pleasure through his markings. Fenris moaned long and low. “Add a third finger; then stretch your hole out.” Fenris complied as another jolt of pleasure shot through him. Hawke pulled out the smallest plug, still about an inch in diameter, and poured a serum on it that was also in the box. “Move your hands,” he commanded. Fenris cried out and keened as he took his fingers away. The plug slid in easily right after, and the elf groaned and thrashed, his hands gripping the sheets with white knuckles.

“Sit up and turn towards me.”

“Yes, Master,” Fenris stuttered with hitched breath as he turned toward his master who immediately slid his fingers through white hair and devoured him in a powerful kiss. The elf felt like crying. The pleasure was overwhelming, but he could not cum. It was a new kind of torture.

“Does that plug feel good? I put a special aphrodisiac on it to make your fuckhole feel better.”

“It’s so good, Master. Please, I-“ Fenris groaned, cutting himself off. His master had said he would come when he was fucked by him. The mage might get angry if he begged.

Hawke chuckled at the elf. “Now it’s time to please me. Kiss my asshole the way you kiss my mouth. Lick it and fuck it with your tongue. You may use your hands to make it more accessible, but only your tongue can touch it. Do you understand, slave?”

“Yes, Master,” Fenris replied as he made his way down to Hawke’s ass. His master was lazily stroking his shaft. The elf pulled the globes apart just enough to expose Hawke’s hole, then dove in. He still felt aflame with pleasure, the aphrodisiac making his whole body tingle. He slurped obscenely, spurred on by his master’s moans. He licked and circled his tongue around the hole, then began to pump it in and out as he had done with his fingers in his own ass. Suddenly, Hawke pulled him up by his hair to cum on his face. It landed in white strips against his lips and cheek.

“Don’t waste it,” Hawke said, nearly out of breath. Fenris used his fingers to sweep the fluid into his mouth. He licked his lips while breathing harshly. His own body was nowhere near sated and was crying out for more.

Hawke smiled. “What does it taste like, slut?”

“Success, Master,” Fenris replied obediently.

Hawke leaned forward and took the elf’s face in his hands. He stared into his wide green eyes. “You are such a good boy, Fenris.” The elf’s face lit up with excitement. Hawke gently kissed his lips, then his forehead. “Go to the bathing room and clean yourself up. Don’t touch the plug or your cock though. When you are clean, dress in the clothes I left there for you.”

“Yes, Master,” he replied, getting up and stumbling on shaky legs toward the door on the far side of the room.

“Hurry up,” Hawke yelled after him. “I’m ready for breakfast.”


	5. Chapter 5

Fenris stood staring at himself in the large mirror in Hawke’s bathing room with his teeth gritted in frustration. The morning had been incredible, the bath almost as much so. It was the first time he had been able to submerge himself in steaming water. He had dunked his head under with a grin to experiment with the way it felt to have water in his sensitive ears and blow bubbles with his nose. Danarius had only ever given him cold buckets of water and a rag. Even though his markings tingled and glowed softly from the magic that heated the wide tub, it felt so good that he almost forgot his master’s order to hurry. Once back in his right mind, he quickly dried and grabbed the pile of clothing left for him. 

The shorts had been easy enough. They were soft, black leather and so tight and short that they barely covered his ass. The black lacing up the front did nothing to hide his still erect cock, and he was fairly certain the round end of the plug inside him was visibly outlined in the back. He gave that little thought though as he moved on to the shirt. It, too, was black but was made of some stretchy and soft material he had never felt before. The elf pulled it on with no difficulty, but it was then that the problems began. The collar was extremely wide, so wide that pulled forward, it exposed both his nipples. He tried pulling one sleeve onto his shoulder, but the other fell dramatically, coming far past his fingertips and exposing his entire shoulder and upper arm to the elbow. He gripped, pulled, and rearranged, but he couldn’t figure the infuriating garment out. He growled at himself and the shirt in the mirror. He desperately wanted to please his master, but he was confounded and gave up in favor of meekly asking for help.

Fenris poked his head out of the bathing room door to see Hawke sitting at the nearby desk, scribbling something onto some parchment. “Master,” he called softly, opening the door to expose himself and the way the shirt hung absurdly off of one shoulder. “I’m sorry. I cannot figure this shirt out. Please have mercy. I have never worn anything but my armor before.”

Hawke snorted in amusement. “I highly doubt that you wore your armor as a child.”

Fenris hung his head low, ashamed of himself. “Of course you are right, Master, but I have no memories of that time. The ritual that gave me these markings also took my memories. I should have said that I cannot remember wearing anything but my armor. Forgive me, Master.” His voice was sad and lost. It pulled at something within Hawke that he couldn’t recognize, so the gruff mage ignored it.

“It’s fine,” he said, rising. Hawke walked toward Fenris with a black strip in his hand. He reached out and arranged the shirt properly, so it hung off of both shoulders equally, exposing the elf’s upper body to just above his nipples. Properly draped, the sleeves hung down, covering half of his hands. “Perhaps if you’re a very good slave,” the mage added offhandedly as he buckled the black leather collar he had been holding around Fenris’s neck, “I can try to get some of your memories back.”

Fenris’s eyes widened, and his mouth formed an o in surprise. How lucky he was to have Hawke as a master. The promise of bits of his past made him even more eager to please the powerful Magister. “Thank you, Master,” he whispered.

Hawke responded by taking the elf’s face in his hands and plundering his mouth. He grinned roguishly at his panting toy. “Come. I am hungry,” he commanded and strode out the door with Fenris in tow.

When they arrived at the dining room, there were already two people sitting at the table that was covered in an array of fruits, breads, cheeses, and meats. Hawke took his place at the head of the table, completely ignoring the way the other two occupants of the room stared at him with mouths agape. “Kneel beside me,” he commanded to Fenris, “and eat whatever I hand you.”

“Yes, Master,” the elf said eagerly. “Thank you, Master.” He silently hoped that some of the food on the table would end up in his hands. He only ever got dry bread and fish. He hated fish.

There was silence as Hawke grabbed some croissants and cheeses as well as a few large handfuls of berries to put on his waiting plate. He handed a croissant and a slab of Gouda to Fenris who thanked him quietly and tore into them as though he hadn’t eaten in his life. Hawke grinned down at his slave as he munched on his own breakfast. The tense silence was broken by the man to Hawke’s right. “When the fuck did you get a fucking body slave?”

Hawke threw an annoyed look at him while carding his fingers through his elf’s white hair. “Who? Fenris?” The elf had stopped eating to lean into the touch. Hawke handed him down a few berries which he immediately shoved into his mouth. “I won him in a duel yesterday. Why, little brother? Are you jealous?”

The man ruffled. “I’m disgusted is what I am! How dare you bring that disease-ridden whore into our house?”

Hawke narrowed his eyes menacingly. “You’d be wise to remember that our father built our fortune here with our mother after whisking her away from Kirkwall. He left that fortune and this estate and the title of Magister to me, not to you. I will decide what goes on in my estate, and you will deal with it whether you like it or not. Besides, Fenris is not a whore. In fact, he’s still a virgin. Isn’t that right, Fenris?”

The elf quickly swallowed the food in his mouth and nodded. “Yes, Master.”

“You see, Carver? No diseases, so why don’t you shut up and eat your breakfast?”

Carver stood indignantly, his large, ornate dining chair scraping across the ground. “I’m tired of you telling me what to do! Father only favored you because you’re a mage and I’m a warrior!”

“Father favored me because I am better than you,” Hawke replied. “You’re a shitty warrior. My fucktoy is a better warrior than you.”

“Do you want a fucking bet?” Carver glared at his brother across the fruit and cheese platter between them. 

The woman who had been silent until then sighed heavily. “Can you please just calm down, Carver?”

“Stay out of this, Bethany!” He returned his attention to his brother. “I asked if you wanted to bet. You think that freaky elven whore can best me on the battlefield?”

Hawke looked down at Fenris, who was now very interested in their conversation. “What do you think, slave? Could you best my brother in a duel?”

Fenris thought for a moment before he answered. “You are so powerful, Master, and he is your brother. If he is as powerful as you, I am not sure I can win. I have never been beaten before though.”

Hawke scoffed. “He is nowhere near as powerful as me.”

“Fuck you!” Carver yelled, throwing a pastry at his brother. 

Hawke used his force magic to stop it in midair and pluck it from where it hovered in front of his face. He handed it to Fenris who took it gratefully and shoved it into his mouth. Hawke smirked down at him before looking back up to glare at his fuming brother. “A bet it is then. What will the terms be?”

“If I win, I want a body slave of my own. A girl. A human girl.”

“Carver,” Bethany admonished, shaking her head.

“That seems hypocritical, but fine. What happens when you lose?” Hawke asked.

“If I lose, which I won’t, I will give my favorite sword to you.”

Hawke sneered. “I have no use for a sword. You will give your favorite sword to my fucktoy because he’s a superior warrior, and then I will take it and throw it in a closet because the only sword he needs is mine,” Hawke leered ludely, “and you can sit in your room and imagine it rusting with disuse.”

“Deal!” Carver shouted as he stomped out of the room. “In the courtyard in thirty minutes!”

Hawke ignored him to lean down and whisper into Fenris’s sensitive ear where Bethany couldn’t hear. “If you lose, you will not cum tonight. If you win, I will allow you to sleep in my bed.”

Fenris’s eyes brightened and a smile spread across his face at the thought of sleeping next to his master in that fluffy bed with its warm comforter and soft pillows. “I will win, Master,” he asserted.

Hawke handed him another decadent pastry and ruffled his white hair, grinning back. “Good boy,” he praised.


	6. Chapter 6

Fenris stood obediently with his master staring at the great wall of broadswords that occupied the side of the man’s armory. They ranged in size and shape, getting more and more ornate as they neared the back of the room.

“Pick any one you want,” Hawke instructed. “Whichever will be best for you to beat Carver.”

“Yes, Master,” the elf replied while gazing in slight awe at the selection. Near the end of the row was a Blade of Mercy, something Fenris knew Danarius coveted for years. He reached out tentatively to touch it but hesitated and turned back to his master to seek approval first.

Hawke was grinning. “You have good taste in blades, slave. The Archon himself gifted that to me for service to the empire.” He reached out and lifted it easily. Unlike Fenris’s former master, Hawke was broad and muscular despite being a mage. He moved toward Fenris, but instead of handing him the blade, he reached out his other hand to rub the elf’s cock through his impossibly tight shorts. Fenris gasped in surprise, and then moaned as Hawke moved his hand up and down. It was the first time the man had touched his cock except to put the ring on, and that had been momentary and utilitarian. Fenris gazed up at his master with eyes glazed and mouth parted in desire. Hawke leaned in to whisper into his sensitive ear, “Remember, you are my little slut. Putting this sword in your hands will not change that. Weapons don’t fight with hard dicks and plugged asses.”

“Yes, Master,” Fenris moaned back as Hawke licked the delicate edge of his long pointed ear and moved his hand back to push on the plug in the elf’s ass, fucking him with it for a few moments until his slave was panting and keening.

Hawke stepped back to admire his handiwork. Fenris’s face was flushed, and his cock was straining against the tiny shorts. Carver would be furious. The magister handed the sword to Fenris who immediately took it and tested its weight by swinging it a few times. His form was nothing short of perfect. Hawke could imagine that in the spiky armor he once wore, his gorgeous fucktoy would have been absolutely terrifying on the battlefield. “Fight my brother with all your strength,” he instructed, turning toward the door. “Just don’t kill him.”

In the courtyard, Fenris and Carver stood at opposite ends of a circle specifically installed for sparring. Carver was more than furious. He was livid, nearly spitting with rage at the elf’s obvious arousal. “You fucking prick!” he yelled at his brother. “You did this to him on purpose to distract me!”

Hawke laughed, looking over at the way Fenris shifted from foot to foot, obviously trying to focus on the battle and not the plug stretching out his hole. “If anyone’s distracted, I think it’s Fenris.”

Fenris immediately stopped squirming and looked over at Hawke. “I will win, Master,” he asserted.

Hawke grinned at the way Carver sneered and ground his teeth. “I know you will, slave.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Carver screamed. “Here’s how this is gonna go. The first to get two death blows, wins.” He looked over at his brother. “I’ll try not to actually kill your little toy,” he said with false sweetness.

Hawke pulled out a red scarf nonchalantly. “The duel will begin when the scarf touches the ground. Agreed?”

“Yes, Master,” Fenris replied with a firm nod, bending his knees and raising his blade into a battle stance.

“Just do it,” Carver spat.

Hawke threw the cloth up, and it fluttered down in almost slow motion. As soon as it landed, Carver was in the air with a roar, his sword above his head being brought down with two hands. It smashed into the ground where Fenris once was, leaving a large divot. Carver was clearly planning to cleave the elf in two. Hawke’s eyes widened in shock, not at his brother’s intent, but at his slave. Fenris was fast, faster than he could have possibly imagined. He had already begun moving before Carver began to jump. He swung around with expert precision, so that when the other warrior stood, he turned directly into Fenris’s blade. The elf held the massive sword aloft with one hand, balancing it millimeters from Carver’s neck. Carver, too, stared in shock at Fenris, meeting his cold, empty green eyes.

“I believe that’s one. Good work, slave,” Hawke called. Carver watched as those eyes came alive again and lit up with pleasure at the praise.

“Thank you, Master,” Fenris called without moving his blade.

“Let’s reset for the next round,” Carver said, his voice tinged with only the slightest bit of nervousness. “And let’s switch sides. The sun was in my eyes.”

“Carver, if you were any more full of shit, you’d be a chamberpot. Are you sure you don’t want to forfeit now and save yourself the embarrassment?” Hawke called as Fenris lowered his sword and moved obediently to the other side of the ring.

“Fuck you, brother,” Carver called back, getting into position. “Start the damn match.”

The scarf flew in the air and fell just as slowly to the ground a second time. Carver feigned left then moved right. Fenris streamed across the battlefield, sword raised in front of him. Carver turned in surprise, lifting his blade for an overhead blow. He plowed down on the spot where Fenris just stood, and instantaneously, the elf moved. Carver switched to holding his sword with one hand as he spun around in search of his opponent. Before he could even draw in a breath, Fenris was there, glowing blue with his hand plunged into Carver’s chest up to the forearm. The youngest Hawke stared down at the elf in disbelief. 

“Two,” Fenris whispered, his eyes just as frigid and emotionless as they were before.

“What the fuck is this? How is this a killing blow?” Carver’s voice squeaked high in a strange combination of terror and obstinance.

“Fenris, if I told you to kill my brother right now, what would you do?” Hawke asked calmly.

Carver gasped as he felt intangible fingers curl inside of him. “I’d rip out his heart,” the elf replied flatly, still staring coldly at the other warrior.

“There you have it, Carver. A killing blow if there ever was one. Come over here, slave.” 

Fenris removed his hand in a flash and returned to his master’s side. Hawke pulled him close in a half embrace, his bare hand sliding along the exposed markings on the elf’s shoulder. Carver was nearly doubled over in the middle of the ring. 

“Look here, brother,” Hawke called, catching Carver’s attention. “This elf just humiliated you, and now he trembles under my touch.” Hawke sent a steady pulse of pleasure through Fenris’s markings. The elf gasped and moaned, dropping the sword with a clang in favor of grasping onto his master’s robes to stay upright. “After this, I am going to take him to my chambers to fuck his throat and stretch out his little ass even more than it’s being stretched now. You couldn’t even touch him.” He stopped sending out magic to allow Fenris to recuperate. The elf leaned against him and panted. “Father favored me because I am better than you,” Hawke repeated with a sneer. “You can bring your sword to my toy before dinner when he is finished tending to my sword.” He turned and strode into the main house, Fenris stumbling after him.

Carver remained in the courtyard, wheezing and red-faced. “Fuck you, Garrett!” he yelled at his brother’s back.


	7. Chapter 7

Hawke strode directly into the bathing room upon entering his chambers. Fenris followed without question and watched, biting his lip, as his master disrobed in front of him. The mage’s thick length was already half hard, and Fenris’s eyes were drawn to it. Under his intense stare, he watched it grow slightly and felt his own cock twitch in response. Hawke walked over to the elf, eyeing him ludely.

“Lift your arms,” he commanded, and he pulled off the loose shirt that hid his toy’s upper body from his view. He rubbed his hands up and down on the elf’s scarred chest and sides, tweaking his nipples as he went. Fenris groaned in response. Hawke grabbed the ring on his slave’s collar and jerked him forward to plunder his mouth. Pulling away, he slid his fingers through white hair, holding it back, so he could see Fenris’s face clearly.

“You did well today, little wolf. I can see why your former master prized you so highly as a warrior.”

Fenris frowned, his brow wrinkling in concern. He liked his new station, enjoyed pleasing his master and receiving the praise and pleasure he was allowed. “Thank you, Master,” he said softly, “but I am not a warrior anymore. I am your little slut now.”

Hawke grinned. “That’s right, you are. And I think it’s time to train your body even more. What do you think?”

“Master,” Fenris replied earnestly, “I just want to please you. Please give this body the training it needs to be what you want.” The elf looked away in embarrassment, his cheeks coloring, and said softly, “I want you to want me.”

Hawke decided taking Fenris as a body slave wasn’t just a good decision; it was the best decision he had ever made. He’d never seen a slave so pliant and desperate to please before. He would make full use of this exquisite obedience. He released his hold on the slave and gestured to his tiny shorts. “Take those off, and get into the tub. Rinse the dust and sweat from your skin.” 

“Yes, Master,” Fenris said as Hawke turned and went into his chambers to retrieve his black box without waiting to see if his fucktoy would comply. He knew the elf would do exactly as he asked. 

He was pleasantly surprised upon his return to find that the magic heating his bathwater also made his slave’s markings glow. The entire bathtub lit up a light blue. He placed the box down on a stool near the bath and climbed into the iridescent water. Fenris looked at him demurely. “You’re gorgeous, little slut,” Hawke commented appreciatively.

The elf’s dark eyebrows drew together in confusion. “But I’m a monster. You don’t find me hideous?”

The pleased smile Hawke was wearing slid off his face. His eyes narrowed in anger. “Did you just question me?” he hissed.

Fenris drew in a breath in fear. “I’m sorry, Master. Please, I’m so sorry.”

Hawke lunged across the tub, sloshing water out the sides as he gripped Fenris’s throat and shoved him against its porcelain edge. He glared furiously down at the shaking slave. “Why did you question me?”

“I’m so sorry, Master. Please forgive me. I should not have said anything. Please, Master.”

Fenris was cut off as Hawke smacked him sharply across the cheek, throwing his head to the side. The smack echoed in the small room. “Answer me!” he roared.

Fenris was terrified by his rage. He was on the verge of hyperventilating. “My former owner always told me how ugly I was, that I was a monster. I’m sorry, Master. Please, have mercy.”

Hawke’s grip tightened, cutting of Fenris’s airflow and his words. He leaned into the elf’s face. “You believe Danarius’s words rather than mine? Should I send you back to him, exchange you for some amulet or staff? Or perhaps I should punish you like he did. Maybe you’ll come to believe me instead.”

He loosened his grip enough for Fenris to suck in some air. “No, Master!” he cried. “Please, anything but that! Don’t send me away! Please, I’m so sorry! I never wanted to upset you. Please keep me!” Tears were falling from his cheeks, and his voice was thick with desperation. It tugged at something within Hawke that he hadn’t felt before. Was it pity? He wasn’t sure.

“Very well, you fucking slut. I will keep you, but you will be punished.”

“Thank you, Master! I will never question you again. Thank you.” The elf closed his eyes and braced himself for the agony that would shoot through his markings at any moment.

“What are you doing?” Hawke asked in annoyance.

Fenris opened his eyes. “Waiting for punishment, Master.”

A cruel smile spread across Hawke’s lips. “I am not Danarius, and you are not a weapon. You are a slut, and you will endure punishment like one. Turn around and lean over the edge of the tub.”

“Yes, Master,” Fenris replied, hurrying to follow his orders.

Hawke yanked the plug out that had been filling his slave, enjoying the way the elf cried out. “Since this is your first transgression, and you did just win the duel against my brother, your punishment will not be too harsh. Do not expect this kind of mercy again.” With that, he unceremoniously shoved the largest plug into Fenris’s hole. The elf howled in the pleasure-pain it caused. “How does your sluthole feel, slave?”

“It burns, Master,” the elf replied shakily.

Hawke laughed darkly. “I can fix that,” he said, his voice colored with mirth. He pressed a finger to the plug and pushed an ice spell into it. Fenris screamed and then choked. Tears continued to pour down his face, catching on the lines of lyrium and dripping off his chin.

“Master, please. Please, have mercy. Allow me to please you. Please, Master, have mercy,” he begged. His body quaked against the edge of the tub.

“This is mercy!” Hawke roared, rearing back and slapping his taut ass. “Turn over,” he commanded.

“Yes, Master,” Fenris replied, turning quickly to face the furious mage. When the freezing plug in his ass hit the warm water, he cried out again. 

Meanwhile, Hawke reached into his box and pulled out two small alligator clamps. He leaned forward and let one snap shut on Fenris’s right nipple. The elf screamed in pain. The scream intensified as the other clamp bit into his left nipple. Hawke grabbed the ring in Fenris’s collar and yanked him to his chest, letting his face hover just inches from the elf’s. “Do you see what you’ve made me do?” he asked, his tone frustrated and annoyed. “I wanted to enjoy this bath, but instead you’ve forced me to punish you.”

“I’m sorry, Master,” Fenris whimpered. “Please forgive me.”

Hawke reached down and grabbed Fenris’s cock, which had wilted despite the cockring under the pain he was experiencing. He pushed a strong stream of pleasure into the markings there. Not only did the elf’s cock instantly grow stiff, the rest of his body did as well. Fenris’s mouth hung open in a silent scream. Hawke released his hold, and the elf fell backward into the water with a splash before righting himself with a deep gasp. The mage smiled at the way his fucktoy’s dick throbbed against the ring. “You want to cum, don’t you?” he asked.

“Yes, Master,” Fenris replied with a choked groan.

“You don’t deserve it. You don’t even deserve to suck my cock.” Hawke pulled himself out of the water to balance on the edge of the tub. “Come over here and worship my balls.”

“Yes, Master.” Fenris pressed his face against the mage’s scrotum, lapping at them like they were a treat while Hawke stroked his own cock. The elf pulled one testicle into his mouth and suckled. He used his hand to gently fondle to other one. He moaned as he sucked, the vibration going straight to his master’s dick. After a moment, he switched sides, suckling the other one with the same veracity. Hawke reached down to remove the clamps, causing Fenris to cry out in pain. He breathed heavily as he returned to his duty and licked at the skin between his master’s nuts then opened his mouth wide to accommodate both, swirling his tongue around them. Above him, the magister groaned.

“Enough,” he commanded. “Turn around so your ass is facing me. Bend over with your face above the water.”

“Yes, Master,” he said against the mage’s balls before turning and getting into the new position.

“I want your ass up in the air, and your face down on the bottom of the tub. Take a deep breath,” Hawke warned.

Fenris immediately did as he was told, plunging under the water. He felt the plug being pulled harshly out of him, and he had to squint and press his lips together to keep from crying out and losing his air. Something hot streamed into his gaping asshole. It was followed by a tiny pulse of healing magic that took the burn of the plug away. A moment later, the plug returned, this time slicked with something. It took only seconds for Fenris to realize it was the aphrodisiac. A finger hooked around his collar and pulled him out of the water. He inhaled sharply then leaned his head back against his master’s inner thigh where he had been maneuvered. He panted as he gazed up at the powerful mage. “My cum is plugged in your sluthole now,” Hawke informed him. “For the rest of the day, you’ll feel it inside of you.”

“Thank you, Master,” Fenris replied.

“One more thing, and your punishment is over. Get out of the tub and sit on the stool by the mirror.”

“Yes, Master,” the elf replied, following his orders with some difficulty. His body trembled and quaked with need as his cock was still painfully hard and he was still somewhat out of breath. The huge plug made it hard to walk and even more challenging to sit. He squirmed, feeling his master’s cum oozing inside of him as the plug was pushed deeper by his position.

Hawke pulled up another stool to sit before him. “I do not want you to forget this punishment or that you belong to me. Your former master has his marks all over your body, yet I have none.” He reached into the box and pulled out a small case. Inside was a sharp needle and a series of silver rings. He leaned forward and lapped at the elf’s nipples, causing him to moan and them to stand out. “I will put a ring here so you remember that you are mine.” He plunged the needle into Fenris’s nipple. The elf gasped slightly and watched as the needle was pulled through and a ring slid after it. Hawke moved to his other nipple. “And I will put a ring here to remind you of your transgressions.” He repeated the process, and Fenris yelped in pain. 

The mage used a small bit of glowing green magic to immediately heal the wounds and another to close the rings into solid silver circles. “Every time you force me to punish you, I will pierce your body, so you can’t forget.”

“I will not force you to again, Master. I am so sorry.” Fenris looked pathetic, like he was a child who had broken his favorite toy instead of a toy himself who had been abused and brutalized.

Hawke sighed. The feelings he had with his slave confused him. He thought again on his earlier idea. It must be pity, he decided. He took the elf’s face in his hands and brushed the white hair out of his ashamed green eyes. “You are gorgeous, Fenris,” he said.

Fenris looked up at him. “Thank you, Master,” he whispered. “I am glad. You deserve only beautiful things.”

Hawke smiled softly and kissed him gently on the lips. “Now,” he said, “Let’s get ready for my brother’s arrival.”


	8. Chapter 8

Fenris sat cross-legged on the bearskin rug staring down at the metal rings through his nipples with a frown. He wanted to fondle them, twist them around, explore the way the new additions to his body felt, but that would surely cause the painful erection that had finally flagged in the hours he had been waiting for his master’s return to flare back to life. He sighed and shifted his weight a bit. The thick plug still within him shifted too, pushing the cum inside around. Fenris groaned and let his head fall into his hands. His master was right. He really did have a slut’s body. Every small movement seemed to cause sparks of pleasure that he had never felt before being claimed by Hawke. Even his markings, once only a source of agony, tingled pleasantly against the fur of the rug. 

His head shot up in surprise as the wide doors to his master’s chambers swept open, and the arrogant mage who owned him strode in. Behind him walked three large slaves, humans, each laden with boxes from Hawke’s impromptu shopping trip. The magister waved his arm distractedly toward his desk while he stared at Fenris, who was clad only in his leather collar, with hungry eyes. “Did you miss me, little slut?” he asked with a wide grin.

“Yes, master,” Fenris replied with an emphatic nod. Indeed, he had spent most of the time alone thinking about how much he wished his master was there to touch him and allow him the release he so desperately craved.

“That’s my good boy,” Hawke leered. “Come over here and greet your master properly.”

“Yes, Master,” Fenris said, standing on shaky legs and staggering over to the mage. It was difficult because the plug was still deep within him, and every step jostled it, sending little waves of pleasure up his spine. Once close enough, he dropped to his knees and nuzzled his master’s clothed crotch with his face.

Hawke reached down to stroke Fenris’s hair before becoming slightly distracted by the other slaves in the room. They had set down their burdens, but all three still stood by his desk, their mouths hanging wide in a mix of surprise and lust. “What are you still doing here?” Hawke roared.

They hastily mumbled their apologies and made their way to the door but seemed to have difficulty looking away from Fenris’s sleek, exposed form and the way he so lovingly rubbed his cheeks against his master, dropping small kisses on the material that kept him away from Hawke’s cock. Once they were close enough, Hawke sent a wave of force magic that sent the slaves crashing into the wall opposite his room and slammed the door behind them. “Ingrates,” he hissed before turning his attention back to the elf at his feet. “What did you do while I was gone, little slut?”

“I waited for your return, Master,” Fenris replied, leaning his cheek against the man’s thigh.

The grin Hawke had been wearing when he entered reemerged. “Come,” he commanded, striding toward the boxes piled on his desk. Fenris scrambled to get to his feet and follow. “Do you know where I went?” the mage asked.

“No, Master,” Fenris answered, curiosity laced in his tone.

“I went shopping.” Hawke turned to look at his pliant slave. He reached out and caressed the elf’s chiseled jaw. “I bought some things for you.”

Fenris’s eyebrows shot up in shock. No one had ever gotten anything for him before. “Thank you, Master,” he whispered in awe.

“I got you some new clothes and toys.” Hawke turned to the boxes and began rifling through them until he came upon what he was looking for. “Put these on,” he commanded and began handing items to the elf.

First were black mesh stockings with lacy tops. Bending over to put them on made Fenris groan and Hawke hum in approval. He was then handed some long black gloves that came past his elbows. Hawke grinned as he watched his slave slide them on. The next piece required Hawke’s assistance, a black corset with cloth clips that ended in bows to hook onto his stockings. Hawke laughed as he pulled the strings lacing up the back taut. “I feel like Bethany dressing up her dolls.” He leaned forward and licked the edge of Fenris’s ear. “Except, of course, my doll is a million times better, life-sized and ready to please. Isn’t that right, little slut?”

“Yes, Master. All I want is to please you.”

“You are such a good boy,” Hawke praised. The final piece he handed to Fenris was a small black thong. The sides tied together into bows that matched the ones on his corset. Hawke arranged the elf’s erection, which had returned as his master fondled and praised him, so it stuck out of the top of the tiny panties, exposing the thick line of lyrium and its curling offshoots that decorated the underside of his cock.

“There,” Hawke said happily appraising his slave, “I think we’re ready for Carver’s arrival now.” He walked to one of the wingback chairs and sat, unlacing his breeches to release the erection that strained against them. “Come over here, and suck on me with that fuckhole of a mouth while we wait, slut,” he commanded.

Fenris scurried over and fell to his knees before the mage. He immediately set to bobbing his head up and down on his master’s thick length, letting it slam against the back of his throat. Hawke sent a small but steady current of pleasure through the markings on Fenris’s shoulder. The elf moaned helplessly around the cock in his mouth. His erection ached against the ring still holding back his orgasm. It was difficult not to cry under the exquisite torture his master forced upon him. A knock at the door caused him to hesitate for only a moment before Hawke’s hand pushed his head back down, and he returned to sucking on his master. “Come in,” the mage called with fake nonchalance.

“Fuck, Garrett,” Carver yelled as soon as he entered and processed the scene before him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Hawke gently pulled Fenris up by the hair and took care to wipe the drool that had dripped from the corners of the elf’s mouth. “My brother is here to present the prize for beating him so thoroughly today. Go and accept it.”

Fenris rose and walked toward Carver, his cheeks a violent red. He understood that his master wanted to humiliate the younger Hawke, but it humiliated him as well. “Brother,” Hawke called, “have some dignity and present your sword properly.”

Carver sneered and nearly spat in hatred but fell to one knee all the same. He held the sword out in front of him. When he looked up, Fenris stood before him with his aching erection at Carver’s eye-level. “Garrett,” Carver hissed, “I fucking hate you.”

“I know,” Hawke answered with amusement coloring his tone. “Take your prize, slut.” 

Fenris did as he was told as Hawke tucked himself away and moved to stand behind his slave. “Remember, little brother,” he said while sending pulses of pleasure into the markings on Fenris’s back that caused the elf to shake and moan pitifully while the rest of his markings, including those lining the cock in Carver’s eye-line, glowed a light blue. “The slave I use to satisfy my lust, this elf that is just holes for me to fuck, is a better warrior than you could ever hope to be. Go back to the room I allow you to have, eat the food I allow to be served to you, and think on that. And next time you feel like challenging me, remember the humiliation you are currently feeling. Now, get out my sight.”

Hawke turned his slave and plundered his mouth while Carver stood and quickly moved toward the door. He grinned against Fenris’s lips as the pleasure finally became too much for the elf and the heavy greatsword that his father had commissioned specifically for Carver fell from Fenris’s fingers with heavy clang on the wooden floor. The door slammed as his brother stormed out, and Hawke pulled back to laugh throatily. “You did very well, Fenris,” he praised.

“Thank you, Master,” the elf replied, out of breath.

Hawke released him and walked over to a large cloth pullstring by his bed. He yanked on it while still staring at Fenris. “A slave will bring dinner. Come and lay before me on the rug.” He walked over to one of his plush chairs and took a seat while Fenris complied. “Now,” he said with a leer, “let me see you touch yourself.”

Fenris’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “How would you like me to touch myself, Master?”

“I want to see those black gloved fingers stroke your slutty little cock.” Hawke grinned with satisfaction.

“Yes, Master.” Fenris took himself into his hand with a long moan. He had not been allowed to touch his cock at all, and it felt amazing to have stimulation there after so long. He leaned back and slowly bucked his hips, staring at his master who was also stroking himself in time with Fenris’s thrusts.

A soft knock came on the door, and Fenris knew better than to stop until he was told. Hawke’s grin turned wicked at he called for the slave on the other side to enter. It was an elven woman who gasped in surprise as she saw Fenris with his hand wrapped around his aching cock. “Lay it there,” Hawke said, indicating the floor right next to his masturbating slave. The tray jingled slightly as the woman shook. She carefully set it down without taking her eyes off of Fenris. Fenris, for his part, did not take his eyes off of his master. “Don’t linger,” Hawke commanded, and the slave hurriedly backed out, staring at Fenris the entire way.

The white-haired elf moaned pathetically as orgasm after orgasm threatened to overcome him and each time it was held at bay by the metal ring around his cock. “Your moans are so sweet, little slut. They make me want to fuck your virgin asshole.”

Fenris’s eyes widened in hope. “Please, Master. Please fuck me,” he begged.

Hawke laughed. “Soon, my sexy little elf. Very soon. First, though, I am hungry. Feed me.”

Fenris crawled over to the platter shaky and wracked with need. He began lifting the bite-sized portions of pork tenderloin and gravy into his master’s mouth, moaning as Hawke sucked the sauce off of his gloved fingers. At his master’s command, the elf ate some as well, smiling happily at the amazing taste of the succulent meat. Soon, Hawke was satisfied and opened his robe and breeches. He commanded Fenris to climb into his lap with his long stocking clad legs hanging over the side of the chair’s arms. “Grab the wings here,” Hawke said, indicating the sides of the chair’s back. “Don’t let go until I tell you to.”

“Yes, Master,” Fenris said obediently.

Hawke leered up at him, dropping soft kisses on the elf’s chin. “Are you ready for me, slut?” he asked.

“Yes, Master,” Fenris replied sincerely. “Please fuck me,” he begged.

Hawke untied the sides of the thong to pull it off then carefully eased the huge plug out of Fenris’s hole, enjoying the way the elf’s back arched in response and the groan that tumbled from his lips. The mage slid three fingers easily into his stretched ass. “Still slick with my cum, little fucktoy.” Fenris’s ass clenched around him in response to his words. “Such a greedy sluthole. Do you feel how it’s gripping my fingers, pulling them in? That’s what a fuckhole should be like.” He hummed in approval.

Hawke pulled his fingers back out after pumping a few times then slid his cock inside. He pulled Fenris down hard, so the elf sprawled across his chest with his black-gloved fingers clenching desperately on the chair. Hawke licked the edge of Fenris’s ear and then whispered into it, “You’re not a virgin anymore, slut. You’re full of my cock now.” He thrust emphatically, causing the elf to moan and the lyrium-lined erection pressed against Hawke’s stomach to twitch. “How does it feel?”

“So good, Master. Please, Master, let me cum with your cock in my fuckhole.”

“Well,” Hawke said with a grin, “since you asked so prettily.” 

With that, he gripped Fenris’s back and thrust over and over while sending pleasure pulsing into the elf’s markings. Fenris writhed against him, moaning incoherently. Heat pooled low in Hawke’s abdomen, his balls tightening. He reached down and unclasped the ring around Fenris’s cock, and almost instantaneously, the elf came across his owner’s stomach with a shout, “Master!”

Hawke groaned at the way his slave’s hole clenched and milked him until he came deep inside of him. Fenris was still gripping the chair with white knuckles, but his head had fallen to rest on Hawke’s broad shoulder. The mage grabbed a handful of sweaty white hair and pulled Fenris back. The elf’s big green eyes were glazed. “Let go,” he whispered, and Fenris did as he was told albeit with no small amount of effort. Hawke pushed his slave back, and the elf fell off of his cock and onto the floor with a startled yelp. “Clean up the mess you made,” Hawke demanded, gesturing to the semen on his stomach. Fenris obediently leaned forward and lapped up his own spunk. “Now, go get undressed and clean yourself up. Then come join me in the bed.” 

Fenris moved as quickly as he could, but after the powerful orgasm that just ripped out of him, it was still fairly slow. Soon, he returned, fresh and still slightly wet to crawl into the soft bed with his master. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was to receive such treatment. He was happier than he could ever remember being. He loved being Hawke’s body slave and resolved to do whatever he could to stay in that position as long as was possible. Something Carver said niggled at the back of his mind though. “Master?” he asked softly.

“What?” the gruff mage replied, his arm draped heavily over the elf and his chest aligned perfectly with the contours of his slave’s back.

“Your brother called you Garrett many times today. I’m sorry for asking, but what’s a Garrett?” Fenris’s voice was hesitant, fearful.

Hawke laughed heavily, his breath tumbling across the elf’s head and ruffling his damp, white hair. “I’m a Garrett,” he said. “It’s my first name. My parents were a Marcher and a Ferelden. In both places it is customary to have two names. I am Garrett Hawke.”

“Thank you, Master,” Fenris whispered.

“It’s fine. Now go to sleep,” the magister replied.

Fenris tried to follow his master’s orders, but found himself too excited for rest despite the difficult day he had. Long after he felt snoring rumbling in the chest against his back, he lay with his eyes open in the dim light of the moon that streamed in through the windows. He knew his master’s secret name. Even Danarius had no idea what that was, had no idea Hawke even went by anything else. He let himself mouth it with a smile without giving the word voice. _Garrett._


	9. Chapter 9

For two full weeks, things were wonderful for Fenris. He became better and better at reading exactly what it was his master wanted and giving it to him in just the right ways. He was treated to the best food he’d ever had, and Hawke allowed him to snuggle into his large, comfortable bed every night. He was showered in the pleasure and praise he had never known he desired, and his life was better than he could have ever dreamed. When he was finally punished again, it came not from anything he meant to do, for he would never purposely upset his master, but from ignorance. Though the elf knew every inch of Hawke’s body more intimately than anyone else in Thedas, he had no idea who his master truly was.

Fenris had originally meant it as a compliment. He had taken to telling the gruff mage whom he nearly worshipped all the things he liked about him as he noticed them. Generally, Hawke would smile or ruffle his hair or kiss him in response. He adored being on the receiving end of all of those things, though this time he secretly hoped for the latter. He lay half sprawled across the bearskin rug while his master sat in one of his chairs. As was usually the case when they were alone, Fenris wore nothing but his ever-present leather collar. Hawke held the book he was reading in one hand while the other dangled down, so Fenris could lick and suck his fingers. It was when the elf slid his tongue across the smooth skin of his master’s inner wrist that he decided to tell the man yet another beautiful thing he noticed about him. “Master,” he said, cheek pressed against the soft skin he had been licking, “you must be an amazing healer. You have no scars on your wrists like all the other magisters I have met.”

Fenris realized he had made a mistake as soon as the words were out of his mouth. Having been only rewarded for his compliments in the past, he was wholly unprepared for the furious rage his master flew into. The arm was yanked from his grasp, and the book Hawke had been reading thudded to the floor as the magister jerked to his feet. “You think I’m a blood mage?” Hawke roared while simultaneously pressing Fenris’s body harshly into the ground with a blast of force magic.

The magical pressure holding him down constricted Fenris’s lungs and kept him from replying properly. “M-Master,” he choked out pitifully, begging in that one word for Hawke to forgive him for whatever it was he had done. He could not fathom that a mage, a magister as wealthy and powerful as his master no less, could possibly go through life and not use blood magic.

Hawke stomped across the room and ripped open the chest where he had stowed all the items he bought for Fenris on the second day he owned him. He shook with anger. “You think,” he called to the still pinned Fenris, “that I need to strike a deal with a demon? You think I am not powerful enough on my own, you idiotic fuck?” He yanked out a pair of thick metal bands, and with a wave of his hand had the elf flying across the floor to his feet.  
Fenris knocked his head heavily on one of the chairs on the way and bled from a small cut on his temple. “Master,” he moaned from his place on the floor, “I’m so sorry.” Tears trekked down his cheeks.

“Not as sorry as you will be, you stupid piece of shit. Give me your hands!” Hawke commanded.

Obediently, Fenris lifted his hands up to his master. The thick metal bands were clasped around his wrists and locked into place. Hawke released them and closed his fist harshly causing two things to happen at once. The first was expected. The bands were enchanted to react to his magic by binding together until he released them. Their runes glowed red as they clanged into each other. The second was completely unexpected. Immediately, Fenris began shrieking in a way Hawke had never heard. The elf’s markings glowed a furious blue, and he writhed on the floor as he screamed his throat raw. It took a moment for Hawke to process what was going on. The magic was reacting to Fenris’s markings. The agony Danarius had disciplined his slave with in the past was back and running along the lines of lyrium that covered the poor elf.

Stunned into inaction, Hawke watched the pathetic scene for another few seconds before quickly releasing the spell. He stood in silence as he watched Fenris curl in on himself and beg desperately, “Please, Master, no more! Please, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know! Please, Master, have mercy!”

Under his anger and shock, Hawke felt something pull at him that he hadn’t felt in years, something that he thought he had abolished from his life. “Get out,” he said shakily.

Fenris looked up in confusion. “Master?” he asked.

“Get out!” Hawke roared. “I don’t want to see your face. Leave my chambers! Get the fuck out!”

Fenris scrambled to his feet as best he could, pain still lingering all over his body. As soon as he was out of the room, the door slammed behind him with a wave of force magic. For several minutes, the elf stood naked in the hallway staring at the closed door. He pressed his hands to it and laid his forehead against the cool wood. Small, choked sobs shook his lithe frame. He had ruined everything. Life had been good for once, and he ruined it completely. His master kicked him out. He’d be back in Danarius’s hands by the morning, Fenris was sure. That thought pulled a strangled groan from the elf’s throat. He couldn’t go back to that life, not now that he knew gentleness and comfort. He had devoted everything into becoming the slut Hawke wanted. He couldn’t be Danarius’s weapon again. Fenris slid to his knees and nearly doubled over, palms still flat on the wood blocking him from his master. He wanted to beg through the door. He would endure anything Hawke wanted however depraved or painful if only the man would keep him. His chest ached in a way he hadn’t felt before. It was terrifying.

The sound of soft footsteps running down the hallway pulled his attention from his hopeless situation for a moment. It was Bethany, his master’s sister, hurrying toward him. Catching his eye, she blushed heavily at his nudity. “Fenris?” she asked in confusion.

“Yes, Mistress,” he replied, his tone conveying just how morose and horrid he felt.

Bethany tried to look anywhere but at the large expanse of lyrium-lined skin before her. “What are you doing out here? What was that screaming I heard?”

Fenris moaned pitifully. “My master kicked me out. He said he doesn’t want to see my face. Mistress, please I-“ he cut himself off. He didn’t even know what he was begging Bethany for. All he wanted was to return to that room, to Hawke’s embrace. Tears clouded his vision, and he dropped his head in resignation. He heard the shifting of cloth, and then soft pink material landed around his shoulders. He looked up in confusion. It was Bethany’s sleeping robe.

“I can’t talk to you when you’re like that,” she said, gesturing to his naked body without looking at it. Fenris hurriedly stood and wrapped the robe around himself. It had frilly sleeves and edges. Had he not looked so utterly distraught, Bethany would have laughed at the sight. “Come over here,” she instructed, moving to a bench a bit further down the long hallway. He sat with his arms crossed, holding Bethany’s robe around himself. She assessed him carefully, reaching up to touch the cut on his temple. Looking fully at him now, she could also see that the skin around all of his lyrium was red and irritated. “Was it you screaming?” she asked gently.

“Yes, Mistress,” he replied without looking in her eyes. “I was being punished. Master was so angry.” He turned to her in desperation. “He’ll give me back to Danarius,” he whispered. “Please, Mistress, I can’t go back.”

Bethany sighed and let her healing magic wash over the troubled elf. “I doubt he’ll sell you, Fenris. I’ve never seen him as attached to anything as he is to you.”

“He was so angry,” Fenris repeated, shaking his head.

“What happened?” Bethany asked as the green glow of her magic faded along with the blue glow of Fenris’s markings.

“I thought all magisters were blood mages, Mistress. I was wrong.” He put his hands over his face in shame.

“Oh, Fenris,” she replied in a hushed tone. “That’s the worst thing you could have done.” The elf looked up, stricken. “Our parents were killed by an abomination. It was a blood mage who succumbed to the demon he had been dealing with. Garrett was only eighteen. Everything changed then. He was such a nice guy before.” She scratched her nose with a small laugh. “Well, maybe not nice, but he was certainly not like he is now. Our father was raised in the circle in Ferelden. Do you know where that is?”

Fenris was staring, absolutely rapt. He knew nothing of his own past, so he had never thought on his master’s. Now that he was getting information though, he found himself hungry for it, eager for the barest scraps of knowledge. “Yes, Mistress, in the South.”

“Right.” Bethany nodded. “There mages are treated differently than here. My father came here with my mother for a better life. He wanted freedom for himself and his children.” She colored a bit. “I guess I shouldn’t be talking about that with you.”

“It’s alright, Mistress,” Fenris replied. “I don’t want freedom. I just want to return to my master’s side.”

Bethany patted him on the head unsurely. It felt nothing like Hawke’s touch. He didn’t want to lean into it the same way. “Yes, well anyway, he took over as Magister once father and mother were killed. He decided he would become the most powerful in all of Tevinter, and he would do it without blood magic. He would not let any demon hold power over him, force him to do things he didn’t want to do. He threw himself into his studies and meetings with the other magisters. He became harder, crueler. The older brother I knew was gone. There was only Magister Hawke, arrogant and bold. He’s still him deep down though, under all that hate.” 

Bethany paused for a moment, ready to say more, but she was cut off when Hawke’s door jerked open. “Fenris!” the mage yelled.

Fenris jerked to his feet. “Yes, Master” he replied, hurrying over to Hawke and dropping to his knees before the powerful man. “Please forgive me, Master! Please don’t sell me!”

Whatever Hawke had been going to say when he came into the hall was lost as he looked down at the kneeling elf. “Why are you wearing that ridiculous robe?” he asked with his brow twisted in amused confusion.

Startled, Fenris looked down at himself. In his joy at seeing his master, he had forgotten all about Bethany’s robe. “I gave it to him, brother,” she called as she walked toward the pair. “I’m not as comfortable with nudity as you seem to be. I healed him to, in case you were wondering.” She leaned in on Hawke, taking on the chastising look their late mother had used when she was truly disappointed in her children. “I don’t know what kind of punishment you are using, but it is horrid.”

“That was an accident,” Hawke replied, waving her reprimand off. “Fenris, return that robe to my sister and go wait next to the desk,” he commanded.

“Yes, Master,” Fenris replied hurriedly while he practically ripped off the robe and thrust it into Bethany’s hands before darting into the room.

Bethany eyed her brother for a moment longer. “His skin was burned around every marking, brother. I understand your anger at his mistake, but was that really necessary?”

Hawke frowned. “Do not forget who the master of this estate is, sister. Don’t try to tell me how to treat my property. It is none of your business.” His glare softened a bit. “Besides, I said that was an accident. Don’t try to brand me a liar in the same hour I am accused of being a blood mage.”

“I’m glad,” Bethany replied. “All that elf wants is to make you happy.”

Hawke nodded as he closed the door on her. “I know,” he said in a softer voice than he meant to.

Fenris waited, prostrated on the floor near the desk. His fingers curled and uncurled against the cool wooden floor. Anxiety had his nerves bound in tight knots. Hawke walked over, frowning in contemplation at his slave. Fenris couldn’t see his face, so he missed the way Hawke rubbed his eyes in frustration with himself. “Stand,” the mage finally instructed.

Fenris did so without hesitation, still careful to keep his eyes averted lest he anger his master further. “Yes, Master.”

“Turn,” Hawke said, and as soon as Fenris complied, he bent the elf over the desk. He rubbed his slave’s lyrium covered ass cheeks slowly. “I am no blood mage,” he said.

“I know, Master. I am sorry I presumed. And I know you might sell me in the morning, so please let me say something.” Fenris’s voice quavered with apprehension.

“Speak,” Hawke commanded.

Fenris looked over his shoulder into his master’s eyes. He smiled, and it looked slightly out of place with the tears that had not yet dried on his cheeks. “I am so glad, Master. I hate blood magic. Even if it means you’ll,” his voice hitched in worry, “you’ll give me back to Danarius, I’m glad I learned you don’t use it.” 

Fenris turned back to his previous position and missed the way Hawke’s lips twitched and how he struggled to school his expression. The mage did not speak again. Instead, he pulled himself out of his breeches and spit on his hand. He rubbed himself to hardness and pressed into Fenris’s hole without warning. The elf groaned in response. Hawke thrust into him violently, taking out all the anger and passion and confusion that the elf caused within him without saying a word. Quicker than either expected, he came deep within Fenris’s ass. He pulled out and stepped back, watching how the white liquid dripped out of the hole and down the inside of the elf’s leg. “Clean yourself up,” he said more tired than anything else. “You’ll sleep on the floor by the bureau tonight.”

“Yes, Master,” Fenris whispered as he stood, his own arousal completely ignored, to walk into the bathing room.

Hawke undressed fairly slowly, emotions he didn’t want to feel roiling in his breast. He lay in his large bed and pretended not to watch when Fenris came out and lay himself down on the hard wooden floor across the room from him. The elf lay facing the wall, so his intricately scarred back was toward Hawke. For a few minutes, they both laid in silence. Hawke felt strange seeing his slave so far from him. His bed felt empty despite the absurd amount of pillows and bedding. “Fenris,” he finally called.

Fenris sat up and turned toward Hawke. “Yes, Master?”

“I’ve changed my mind. Get into bed.”

Fenris scrambled over to Hawke and gratefully climbed under the covers with him. “Thank you, Master,” he whispered. Hawke simply grunted in response, throwing his arm around the elf and pulling that scarred back he had been admiring from afar against his chest where it belonged. Tears made new paths down Fenris’s cheeks, but this time it was happiness that caused them.


	10. Chapter 10

Morning came earlier than usual for Hawke. Normally, he awoke long after Fenris and was able to shake his grogginess by watching his slave finish his morning exercise routine. This morning, his eyes snapped open in fear as the sun’s rays had just begun to creep through his windows. It was a dream that tore him from sleep, a dream that was fading too fast for him to grasp onto it. There was something about Fenris, something about his slave being dragged away in chains. The elf’s sweet, rough screams still echoed in his ears. Hawke looked down to see a white-haired head pillowed on his chest. One of Fenris’s slender lyrium-lined arms was wrapped around his lightly furred stomach. He felt relieved even as his chest tightened and decided all of it was a result of the previous day’s fiasco.

In the moment Hawke had accidently triggered Fenris’s markings into spreading agony throughout his lithe body, the mage had felt only one emotion clearly: regret. He wanted to take it back, to start over. That was something he hadn’t desired since his parents had died. They had asked him to join them in their visit to the cruel magister who eventually murdered them, but Hawke had refused. He was too uncomfortable around that man to voluntarily spend time with him. He knew that if he had gone, he could have saved them. The might of his father combined with his own was untouchable. But he had said no, and no amount of magic could change that, just like no amount of magic could change what he’d done to Fenris. Hawke tried desperately to remind himself of this as he stared down at the elf who was inordinately powerful and vulnerable all at once. 

“Fenris,” Hawke said softly, not to rouse his slave but just to enjoy the way the name felt on his lips.

Fenris jerked to wakefulness in an instant. “Master?” It was a question and a plea. The elf had taken it upon himself to believe that Hawke planned to sell him back to Danarius for his indiscretion the day before.

Hawke gently put a finger under Fenris’s chin to guide the elf up and kiss him softly on his full worried lips. “Master?” Fenris repeated, more hope in his voice than before.

“We never finished your punishment yesterday,” Hawke said, his finger tracing the elf’s pointed ear. “You still need your reminder, so you won’t make the mistake of thinking me a blood mage again.”

Fenris’s eyes lit up in excitement. The need for a reminder meant he was staying with his master. He had never desired punishment so much in his life. “Yes, Master,” he replied. “Thank you, Master.”

Fenris rolled out of the way as Hawke moved to get up, and he followed the man obediently to the far side of the room where he pulled his piercing case out of the chest. Hawke turned to face his slave and unexpectedly plundered his mouth, his free hand gripping the white hair on the back of the elf’s head. He pulled back, enjoying the dazed look on Fenris’s face and the way his chest heaved from unanticipated pleasure. “Come,” Hawke commanded as he strode toward the fireplace. 

With a wave of his arm, the hearth erupted into bright flames. He sat crosslegged on the bearskin rug, and Fenris knelt before him. “Turn your head, so I can see your ear,” Hawke instructed. 

“Yes, Master,” Fenris replied, looking toward the fresh fire.

For a moment, Hawke did nothing but stare, enjoying the way the firelight danced on Fenris’s skin and in his bright green eyes. Shaking himself into action, the mage leaned forward and slid the needle through Fenris’s conch, pushing a ring behind it. The elf didn’t even flinch. Hawke used a small zap of magic to close the metal into a solid circle and another to heal the tiny wound. He admired the way the ring hugged the side of Fenris’s pointed ear. “All done,” he said, and like the day before, it was softer than he intended.

Fenris turned toward him and gingerly reached up to touch the ring. “Thank you, Master,” he said earnestly. “I’ll never forget.” He shook his head to emphasize his point.

Hawke moved forward suddenly, forcing Fenris to bend back until the mage loomed over him as they both lay on the rug. Hawke leaned down and kissed Fenris deeply. The elf moaned into it. The rough hand not supporting the mage ran up and down Fenris’s side, the calluses from years of wielding his staff catching lightly on the deep scars of lyrium. Fenris winced ever so slightly, the memory of the previous day’s agony still too fresh to ignore. Hawke dutifully pushed the small whispers of guilt away as he began to pump pleasure into those markings. Fenris’s back arched wantonly, pressing his chest into his master’s. Hawke groaned at the feeling and the way the elf’s cool metal nipplerings scraped against him. Hawke whispered into Fenris’s newly pierced ear, “Do you want me inside you, little slut?”

“Yes,” Fenris cried, “please, Master! Please fuck me!”

Hawke rose, his knees on either side of Fenris’s hips. “Come get my cock nice and slick, so I don’t rip your fuckhole,” he instructed.

Fenris shimmed down, so his face was under his master’s cock, then lunged forward, taking it to the back of his throat instantly. Hawke threw his head back in a silent cry as Fenris bobbed enthusiastically. “Enough!” he shouted after only a few moments of the treatment. He pulled himself off of the elf and looked down at the way that lyrium-lined chest heaved in excitement. “Scoot back. Pull your legs up, so I can see your cute little hole.”

“Yes, Master,” Fenris replied and hurried to follow directions. Hawke moved forward and spread Fenris’s cheeks. He spit onto the brown starburst there and grinned as Fenris cried out and his ass opened and closed to take the saliva in.

“Such a good little slut,” Hawke praised. “Your fuckhole is so greedy.”

“Thank you, Master,” Fenris moaned as Hawke spit on his hole again. “This body knows its only purpose is as your cum dump. My slutty fuckhole wants nothing but to take your cock in.”

Hawke hummed in approval. “Well, let me allow your body to fulfill its purpose.” He moved forward and sheathed himself without hesitation. “Cum freely today, little slut,” he ordered and began fucking Fenris while pushing pulsing pleasure into his markings. The elf moaned and writhed beneath him as he pounded into his ass. It did not take long for Fenris to cum with a shout up onto his master’s stomach.

Hawke moaned and pulled out of his ass. He reached up and grabbed a handful of white hair to pull Fenris’s head down to his cock. Immediately Fenris opened his mouth and took his master in, bobbing like he did before. “Can you taste your ass, slut? You fucking love it, don’t you?” Fenris could only moan around his cock in response. 

“Don’t swallow it,” Hawke warned before cumming all over the elf’s tongue. “Let me see,” he commanded, half out of breath. Fenris opened his mouth to reveal the pooled semen. Hawke reached down and wiped Fenris’s seed off of his stomach. He scraped his fingers along the elf’s open mouth to deposit it inside along with his. “You can close your mouth, but don’t swallow it,” he repeated.

Fenris’s eyes bulged as he watched his master lean down and take his lyrium-lined cock into his mouth. Hawke had never even pressed his lips to Fenris’s member before. The elf shook as Hawke sucked and pumped magic into the markings swirling on his balls. His master had told him to cum freely, and Fenris was glad, for he could not have held in his second violent orgasm of the morning if he had tried. Immediately, Hawke pulled back and squeezed Fenris’s cheeks, so he opened his mouth. Hawke allowed the cum to drip out of his mouth and pool with the rest of the semen in Fenris’s. He licked his lips and stared at the elf in satisfaction. “Look at you, slut. You have three loads in your cum dump of a mouth, two of them are your own. What a fucking whore you are. And you love it don’t you?”

Fenris was breathing harshly through his nose with his mouth hanging open, so he could only nod in response. “Swallow it all,” Hawke commanded. Fenris did as he was told. The mage leaned forward and traced the markings on his slave’s throat. “A perfect breakfast for my perfect little slut.”

“Thank you, Master,” Fenris groaned.

Hawke kissed him deeply, tasting their combined essence on the elf’s tongue. He pulled back and grinned at his panting slave. “But even sluts can’t survive on spunk alone. Let’s clean up and get dressed,” he commanded, “then get ourselves some real food.”

Breakfast was a fairly quiet affair. Bethany kept shooting pleased glances at her brother and his elf. Hawke had pulled Fenris into his lap, and the slave was feeding them both. Carver was trying not to pay attention to them, but this was an improvement from the glares he had been shooting in the weeks since his fight with Fenris. About halfway through the meal, a young elven slave girl came in with a letter for Hawke. He opened it, dismissing her with a wave. After reading, he laughed out loud.

“What is it, brother?” Bethany asked.

“It would seem Danarius wishes for an audience this evening,” he replied. Fenris stiffened.

“Will you allow it?” Bethany replied.

“I have no choice, dear sister. Magisters must grant audience to other magisters when it is requested in writing.” He waved the letter at her.

Bethany looked furtively at the nervous elf in her brother’s lap. He was biting his bottom lip, and his head was bowed. “I suppose he is going to try to bargain with you. He probably wants his bodyguard back.”

Hawke snorted in indignation. “What other reason would he have?” His arm tightened around Fenris’s waist. “But I don’t give a shit what he wants. Fenris is _mine,_ and that fucking asshole will never get him back.”


	11. Chapter 11

Fenris was used to the colorful, bustling chaos of Minrathous’s market. Danarius never allowed the elf to leave his side, so he had spent many hours there quietly trailing behind his former master, watchful, cautious. It was a hard habit to break, and he felt on edge despite the security being with Hawke provided. The powerful magister truly had no need of extra protection. Hawke keeping a bodyguard would have been like putting a mabari out in front of a fortress, somewhat effective but ultimately superfluous. 

Fenris was used to the whispers too. He had always known he looked strange, had always been a spectacle, but as he walked close to his master, the mage’s broad arm resting on his exposed shoulders, he felt the scrutiny even more acutely than ever. The people of the market were stunned. In his tight leather shorts and the silky shirt with its absurdly wide collar, it was quite clear what the foreboding and fearsome elf they had seen trailing Danarius had become under Hawke’s careful tutelage. Fenris wasn’t embarrassed exactly, for he was proud to serve his master in whatever capacity the man wanted, but he was uncomfortable to say the least especially when those whispered comments were accompanied by leers. As Hawke had asserted earlier that morning, much to the elf’s delight, Fenris belonged to him, and the thought of another person’s hands on his body made Fenris’s fingers twitch with the desire to rip out their lecherous hearts. Unintentionally, the elf’s big green eyes narrowed into a glare which he shot at anyone who dared to look him in the eye. They only softened when Hawke stopped in front of the decadent façade of one of the finest tailors in Tevinter. Fenris could not read the swirly purple writing on the sign above the door but knew that Danarius had purchased many of his finest robes there. Hawke looked down at his slave and grinned broadly. “Ready to get your new outfit, pet?”

Fenris couldn’t help but grin back. “Yes, Master,” he replied as they strode though the wooden door to the shop.

Inside, there was a flurry of colors and fabrics. One whole wall was lined with completed robes in every shade imaginable. The opposite wall was covered in layers of shelves, each housing different materials from all over Thedas. Racks dotted the open space between and held hats, cowls, gloves, sashes, and boots of various design. All held the air of being exceptionally high quality. In the rear of the building were two curtained off changing areas and three large mirrors that half surrounded a raised platform with a stool nearby where fittings clearly took place.

“Ah! Magister Hawke,” called a sprightly old woman as she emerged from a room behind the mirrors.

“Good morning, Agatha,” Hawke responded as he moved to meet her near the fitting area, his arm gently guiding Fenris beside him. “Have you finished my special order?”

“That I have. Is this who shall be wearing it?” she asked with an appraising look up and down the elf’s body.

“Indeed.”

“Well, just put him in a changing booth, and I’ll grab it from the back,” she said as she turned around.

“Go on,” Hawke instructed, pointing toward the nearest booth.

Once inside, the sound beyond the thick purple curtains was muffled. Fenris stood, feeling awkward. Hawke had been excited as they left the estate, claiming he had the perfect thing for Fenris to wear during Danarius’s visit later that night. Based on experience, the elf could only assume whatever it was would be very skimpy. Part of him was excited about the idea. He had secretly harbored a deep hatred for Danarius for a long time. The look on the man’s face when he saw what his prized possession had become would be priceless.

Hawke suddenly jerked open the curtains, startling his slave. He walked in and pushed the elf into the wall behind him. “You are going to look gorgeous, little slut. I’ve been waiting to see you in this for over a week.” He bent down to whisper into Fenris’s ear as he pushed a bundle of leather and feathers into his hands. “Don’t keep me waiting any longer.” With that, he turned abruptly and pulled the curtains closed behind him.

It took only moments for Fenris to dress, the feel of the garments all too familiar. The bottoms were leather, cut almost like panties. The upper edge was intricately tooled into swirling offshoots that complimented his elaborate markings perfectly. The top piece was more surprising. It was clearly designed to be a mockery of the armor he had worn for years. His chest was completely exposed save the straps of leather holding his useless pauldrons together. His shoulders were once again covered in feathers, but far from the gruesome iron spikes of his armor, these were delicate, soft raven feathers that tickled his face when he turned to let them graze his cheek. The ends of the leather strips down his arms came together into points with loops of material that slid around his middle fingers. Straps just above where his gauntlets would normally sit kept the leather tight on his arms. Wary of his master’s infamous impatience, he strode out of the changing booth as soon as the straps were fastened.

“Onto the platform,” Agatha instructed.

Fenris quickly complied, looking to his master to see his reaction. Hawke’s warm amber eyes were transfixed, devouring the elf’s flesh, and Fenris felt more exposed than when he was bent on all fours holding his ass open and begging for Hawke’s cock. 

“Well?” the elderly tailor prompted.

Hawke’s rough timber seemed to travel up Fenris’s feet and lodge itself in his chest. “Perfect.” The word bordered on reverent, and Fenris indulged in allowing himself to believe it was more than just the outfit Hawke was praising.

“I made it exactly like the first set of pauldrons, just without all the weaponry.” Agatha beamed at her work.

Realization coursed through Fenris, and his eyes widened with questions he knew it was not his place to ask. This woman had made his original armor, and he could not remember it. Dananrius had thrust the armor at him before the dried blood from receiving his markings had even been washed away. This tailor knew more of his past than he did, and it made his lyrium lines ache. Hawke recognized the longing in his slave’s eyes and asked without prompting exactly what Fenris desired to know. “The slave is different too, isn’t he?”

“Oh yes.” There was laughter in her voice. “Dark hair, unblemished skin, and timid like you wouldn’t believe. He winced every time Magister Danarius spoke. Next time I saw him, he didn’t even acknowledge me, not that I’d expect a slave to anyway. Followed that man around like a vicious guard dog.” She looked Fenris over again. “Seems more like a lap dog now.”

Hawke smiled, staring intently into Fenris’s big green eyes. “He is.”

“Honestly,” Agatha went on, “I don’t know how you got that man to give him up.”

“Danarius is an idiot,” Hawke replied sharply. “Only a fool would risk a prize like this.” He gestured to Fenris’s scantily clad form. “I’d like to see how the bottoms fit when he’s aroused.”

Without waiting for approval, Hawke walked closer to him and placed his hand on Fenris’s exposed chest, pushing a blast of pleasure into his markings that sent all thoughts of his past scurrying away like mice in the face of a snarling cat into the dark corners of his mind where they usually hid. His knees nearly buckled under the onslaught. A whimper escaper his lips as his master palmed his erection through the tight leather restraining it. It was tilted a bit to the side to keep it from peeking out the top. “Perfect,” Hawke said again. “Change back quickly, Fenris. We need to prepare for our guest.”

Soon, Hawke had paid Agatha and was striding out the door with a box containing Fenris’s clothes. Fenris himself followed close behind. As they exited, though, Hawke stopped abruptly, causing Fenris to nearly walk into the back of him. “Watch where you’re going,” the mage snarled at a woman who had apparently blocked his way.

“My apologies, Magister Hawke,” came the simpering reply. The sound of it made Fenris’s throat clench and his heart race. He knew the voice of that sniveling sycophant anywhere. Hadriana, Danarius’s apprentice. She seemed to take notice of Fenris and leaned over to leer openly at him. Her gaze made his skin crawl like it was covered in ants. “Your slave is very attractive,” she said as if she was seeing him for the first time, as if she hadn’t tortured him without cause , hadn’t denied his meals and hounded his sleep for years.

“Of course he is,” Hawke said curtly, tucking Fenris under his arm and ushering him away. Fenris did not mention to his master that Hadriana stood still staring at them when he looked back. He wanted to say something, to warn Hawke, but he was no longer a bodyguard, and it was not a toy’s place to worry about such things, so he turned his eyes resolutely forward and kept his mouth shut.

Danarius arrived precisely on time as Fenris knew he would. When the mage was eager for something, he went after it as quickly as he could. The Magister was led into a study Fenris had never seen Hawke use before by a shaky slave.

“Magister Danarius is here to see you, Master,” she said softly before taking a deep bow and leaving.

Fenris did not think he’d be happy to see the man who inflicted so much pain on his life and stole his memories, yet a smile came to his face unbidden as he observed Danarius standing slack jawed at the door. Hawke was sitting in a large comfortable armchair, and Fenris sat sideways with his long bare legs slung over the arm he wasn’t leaning against. His master helped support his back with his fingers stroking against some of the markings on Fenris’s hip. Fenris’s own arm was resting across the mage’s broad shoulders, and his fingers played with the short hairs at the man’s neck. He had been instructed to be as lewd and affectionate as he pleased during Danarius’s visit, and he was glad to do it. It was wonderfully satisfying to watch his former master’s surprise morph into barely suppressed anger as Fenris stared straight into his cold eyes and rubbed his cheek against Hawke’s neck with a little moan of pleasure.

“I have allowed your audience, Danarius,” Hawke said by way of greeting. “Now state your business and get out.”

Danarius moved to the chair across from Hawke and sat without invitation. “I want my bodyguard back,” he said without preamble.

“No.” Hawke’s clipped tone sent a shiver of delight up Fenris’s spine. Mere weeks ago a response like that would have been followed by Danarius’s command to rip Hawke’s insolent heart out. Fenris let his free hand trail up and down the front of his master’s robe. He could feel the mage’s steady pulse beneath his fingers. “Fenris is mine now. You lost the duel.”

Danarius glared. “I am prepared to make a trade with you. I have recently acquired five highly trained Antivan body slaves, all elves as you seem to prefer. Three males and two females. I think you will find that arrangement more than fair.”

“How did you remove Fenris’s memories and turn his hair white? Was it blood magic?” Hawke asked without acknowledging Danarius’s offer. Fenris tilted his head to look at his master curiously.

The older magister sneered. “It was an unintended side effect. Both were caused by the pain of the ritual I used to implant the lyrium. If you desire, I can look into spells that may produce similar results in these slaves.”

“I don’t,” Hawke replied. He reached up a hand to card through his slave’s long white strands. Fenris closed his eyes and hummed in pleasure.

“So you will take them with their memories intact?” Danarius pressed.

Hawke scoffed. “No,” he repeated in the same clipped tone, “I will not take them at all. I doubt they can please me anyway.” Pride flooded the elf. He knew he pleased his master, had been told so many times. He began peppering kisses along Hawke’s scruffy beard.

“I don’t think you understand, Hawke. I have already purchased these slaves. They sit in my carriage as we speak. There is no doubt in my mind that they’ll be able to please you. They were raised for this. Fenris is no body slave. He’s a weapon that I created, and I want my weapon back.”

Hawke laughed loudly as Danarius’s eyes narrowed. “Once again you have proven your idiocy. You really thought you’d beat me in the duel, and now you’re stupid enough to think I’ll trade my prize for some Antivan whores.” Danarius opened his mouth to speak, but Hawke cut him off. “And he’s not a weapon anymore. Look at him.” Hawke lifted one of Fenris’s legs and slid his hand down the elf’s inner thigh in a rough caress. Fenris threw his head back and groaned. “What are you now, Fenris?” Hawke asked with unconcealed amusement.

“Your little slut, Master,” Fenris moaned back as that hand began to knead his flesh.

“You’re wasting him!” Danarius shouted, half rising out of his chair. “That lyrium is designed to make him an unequaled warrior!”

“It also makes him a wanton whore,” Hawke replied with a satisfied grin as he pumped pleasure into the elf’s markings. Fenris cried out and writhed in his arms, bucking his hips and grinding on Hawke’s lap.

“That’s it!” Danarius roared, standing abruptly. He had to shout over Fenris’s moans. “I challenge you to another duel with the slave as the prize.”

Hawke continued to pump pleasure into Fenris and did kept his eyes trained of the hardness outlined in leather and the smears of precum that escaped to dribble along the lines of glowing lyrium on his slave’s pelvis. “I decline,” he said easily.

“What?” Danarius was incensed. “You’ve never declined a duel! You must fight me!”

Hawke stopped for a moment to look up at the older magister with dark hatred in his eyes. Fenris groaned at the loss of stimulation and pressed himself into his master shakily. “Please, Master,” he begged.

“You see, even Fenris wants you to duel me.”

Hawke’s already icy glare chilled further. “First of all, my slave is begging for my touch.” He palmed Fenris’s clothed erection, and the elf arched his back with a strangled cry to prove his point. “Second, there is nothing I must do, certainly nothing a cretin like you can force on me. I know I can destroy you. You only live because I chose not to kill you in our last duel. But unlike you, I am not fool enough to gamble something I am not willing to lose. Now get the fuck out of my home, so I can continue to enjoy the slut you gave me. See if your Antivan body slaves can protect you.” With that, he returned his attention to Fenris, stroking his jaw and nipping the pointed ear closest to him.

Danarius turned on his heel and stormed toward the door. “This is not over!” he shouted before he slammed it behind him.

Hawke did not look up, just grinned at Fenris. “You liked that, didn’t you slut? You liked showing your former master how well you’ve adjusted to your new role.” Hawke stroked the lyrium on his chest and pulled lightly at his nipple rings. “Tell me, how do you feel about Danarius?”

“I hate him,” Fenris replied without hesitation, gasping when another wave of pleasure coursed through his markings.

“And what about me? Don’t lie.”

The question caught Fenris slightly off guard. A master did not care about his slave’s opinion of him. A master took whether his slaves liked it or not. Fenris looked into Hawke’s eyes and time seemed to slow down. He wasn’t sure how he felt. He definitely did not hate Hawke. He wanted to please him, wanted to see him smile. He reveled in his praise and attention. His chest tightened at the thought of being the slave of anyone else, of allowing any other person to touch him like Hawke did. He felt warm and safe in his master’s embrace and was pleased to see his sleeping face every morning even when drool dripped from the side of his mouth or he snored loud enough to wake Fenris. The elf didn’t know what that meant, had never felt the way he felt about Hawke, so he said the only thing he knew for sure, “I want to stay by your side, Master.”

Hawke’s grin was blinding, and he dove in for a demanding kiss. “Good,” he said against Fenris’s breathless lips, “because you’re not going anywhere.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a long time ago, but I just now joined this site. I have had the entire story mapped out for years, but I never finished writing it. Honestly, I think about it at least once every other week. I'm hoping that by posting it here, I will finally get around to finishing it. Hope you enjoy what I have so far. If you do, please let me know.


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